All Eyes
by District11-Olive
Summary: "They were prisoners, hardly human, so what could they expect to be given from the people that had trapped them there in the first place? Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Welcome to the Zero Verse, and the 220th Hunger Games!
1. Suffering Part One

" _Temper us in fire, and we grow stronger. When we suffer, we survive."_ _  
_ _―_ _Cassandra Clare_ _,_ _City of Heavenly Fire_

* * *

No one would have thought that after over seventy-six years of tension followed by civil war that Panem would ever see peace.

After the spark that ignited the districts to fight for freedom from the Hunger Games came a war like nothing the country had ever seen before. For seven years the districts fought tooth and nail against their overbearing Capitol. Countless lives were lost, entire districts were wiped out by bombings, and the country as a whole suffered through every second of the brutal war.

In the final days of the war the Capitol was brought to its knees. One final raid from the sky forced the President to make a choice to continue the war and risk being overtaken entirely, or to give in to the districts' requests. The President called for a committee of district rebels to meet with him in the Capitol to create what would hence forth be known as the Treaty of Exemption.

The Treaty of Exemption stated that each district would no longer be forced to send children as tributes to the Hunger Games. It gave each district the freedom to control its own resources, and trade peacefully between one another and the Capitol. The monthly quotas that each district must deliver to the Capitol were cut in half, allowing them to grow their own wealth while still having the comfort of protection under the Capitol.

Along with the Treaty of Exemption, a new district was formed. District Zero was created in the patch of dead land where districts Ten, Eleven, and Twelve had once stood. Criminals were deported out of other districts and the Capitol and sent to live in this new district. District Zero was built as a prison camp to keep the rest of Panem safe from crime as well as punish the guilty for their crimes. If all living parents in a family were deemed guilty, all children under the age of sixteen would be deported to District Zero as well.

It was agreed by most parties that the Hunger Games would still take place each year, but that only District Zero would be required to provide tributes. Twenty young tributes would be chosen at random each year to compete against three of the Capitol's finest fighters. If the fighters, later nicknamed Gladiators, eliminated all tributes they would be victorious and showered in fame and riches beyond what even dreams could paint for them. If a tribute was able to kill one of the Gladiators, they could be immediately released from the arena and have their record wiped allowing them to re-enter society. If all three Gladiators were killed, the remaining tributes would fight amongst one another and the last tribute standing would also be released.

As the years went by the majority of Panem flourished under the new treaty. By the next century, only in District Zero was it possible to experience extreme poverty or hunger. With every advance that the rest of Panem made, District Zero only seemed to suffer. It became ridden with horrible amounts of violence, crime, and disease. Body counts were high, not just from violence but also due to the harshness with which the prisoner were treated.

District Zero was broken down into sectors labelled A-J, with prisoners being randomly assigned a barrack upon arrival along with their families. The ten sectors are surrounded on three sides by electric fence, with the fourth side exposed to a massive garbage dump. The industry of District Zero revolves around sifting through the nation's junk for valuables in order for them to be repurposed. Many of the prisoners who are not able to get work in the kitchens or processing plants spent most of their day in the dump hoping to find something they can sell.

District Zero is heavily guarded at all times by Peacekeepers, who were directed by sector wardens. Though guidelines had been issued to protect the prisoners, the strictness with which they were followed dissolved within months of the district's creation. The prisoners were tough and even the Peacekeepers came to fear them in masses. Though they were originally placed in the district to protect against crime, their uniforms only provided them with respect in the light hours. Under the mask of darkness the prisoners fought back against their unfair treatment, often with dire consequences for all involved.

Children and grandchildren of the original criminals could only escape if by the age of twenty they retained a perfect record. Very few were able to achieve this, and populations continued to rise. Barracks were overpopulated, food was scarce, and no one seemed to care. They were prisoners, hardly human, so what could they expect to be given from the people that had trapped them there in the first place?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

* * *

 **A/N: Here it is, my new project that I have mentioned to a few of you now. First and foremost I would like to thank blendedblues for helping me work out a lot of the kinks in this universe. You're a peach!**

 **Now, onto the important stuff. I am looking for twenty amazing tributes from District Zero to enter the 220** **th** **Hunger Games against my three Capitol gladiators. I am NOT accepting submissions for the gladiators, ONLY for the District Zero tributes.**

* * *

 **Some important things to keep in mind if you choose to submit;**

 **\- Tributes can either be children/grandchildren/etc of criminals or criminals themselves (born in District Zero or deported from another district). It is more likely for them to be in the first category, however.**

 **\- Regular age restraints apply (12-18 years of age).**

 **\- District Zero is very poor, all of it. There are no princesses here (at least no rich ones).**

 **\- This is the 220** **th** **Hunger Games, so no war stories please.**

 **\- I don't want any sort of trained tribute. None. Nada. Nope.**

 **\- District Zero is ridden with crime, terror, and poverty, so make them fit there or maybe tell me why they don't fit there. I don't mind a few petty criminals, just make sure there is more to them than that. I don't want a bunch of murder stories, there is going to be enough murder in this story I can assure you.**

 **\- Districts Ten, Eleven, and Twelve no longer exist in this verse.**

 **\- There are no volunteers in this verse.**

* * *

 **The form will be on my profile. The deadline is Wednesday May 27** **th** **, 2015 at 11:59 EST.**

* * *

 **I am looking forward to seeing what everyone is going to come up with, it's sure to be an exciting journey and I hope you all enjoy it.**

 **And finally, welcome to** _ **All Eyes!**_


	2. Suffering Part Two

" _Better to be strong than pretty and useless."_ _  
_ _―_ _Lilith Saintcrow_ _,_ _Strange Angels_

* * *

 **Seneca Ayres, Head Trainer, Combat Training Academy**

* * *

I sigh and push off of my desk, sending myself spinning around in my chair. The long hours I've had to spend in my office are beginning to make their mark on me, and I'm getting stir crazy being cooped up inside all day.

I've already spent enough of my life in this place, I tell myself, why I ever thought it was a good idea to work in the same building that I spent most of my childhood is beyond me. Each day, especially during selection season, I ponder simply leaving and never coming back here again.

The concrete slab walls and cavernous rooms were like home to me from the day I turned five until after my selection opportunity. My parents offered me up to training, having no real desire to raise a fourth child, and I have yet to make more than the necessary amount of contact with them since. I lived in the boarding building opposite the Academy for most of my young life and was happy to move out of the cramped quarters once I was assigned a job placement.

For three years after, until around the time I turned twenty-one, I was posted in District Ten to redesign the security system for Mayor Lipschitz after a series of break ins had left the family running scared. It was a nice change of scenery, but I refused the next placement offer in favour of returning to the Capitol.

Less than year later I ended up back in this crazy place. Three years after that, at the tender age of twenty-five, I am now the Head Trainer and Executive of the Capitol's prestigious Combat Training Academy. Every day I wonder why I return to this building that caused a much younger me all kinds of pain; physically, mentally and emotionally. Yet day after day here I am ready to take on the pressures all over again through looking after the kids.

Selection season is a particularly stressful time both for myself and for the oldest students. It's around the time when the final preparations are being made for the annual Hunger Games. The Academy has been an integral part of the event each year, and selection determines which students have proved that they have what it takes to properly represent us.

It's never an easy task to choose which team deserves to be chosen. Most of these kids have been here since they were five or six, and even though we are outwardly presented as training the next generation of security officers everyone knows what these kids are really being trained for. To be a Gladiator is every trainee's biggest dream and possibly the highest achievement that one can receive in this line of work.

Not only is it necessary that the selected team is competent in their fighting and strategy techniques. They are selected as a team simply because teamwork is an integral part of the job. The Gladiators are facing twenty feral, desperate kids from District Zero and they have to be ready to support each other in doing what they are trained to do. They must be physically, mentally, and emotionally prepared or the arena can get to them as easily as it gets to the tributes.

I still remember the three that were chosen from my year- Talina, Penelope, and Gavin. They were amazing fighters and strategists. I still remember Talina from one of my earlier classes, somewhere around age seven. She was like a little sponge, able to absorb information and wring it out later.

To put it simply each of them was the picture of what a Gladiator should be and the arena broke them. It was the first year in a very long time that all three Gladiators were killed and, though tradition dictated that they must be mourned with honour, the Academy all but shunned them. I heard rumours from my ex-peers that the two girls had bribed the Head Trainer to select them. The Head Trainer disappeared and replaced later that month.

It was not hard to see what must have happened to the now ex-Head Trainer. People that made mistakes as grave as his was had an awful habit of disappearing. The only one that has the kind of power to have this happen this often and not be questioned about it is the Game Master. Though no one knows who that is, not really anyway.

The Game Master is the digitalized face of a man that is featured several times throughout the showing of the Hunger Games. He is as powerful, if not more powerful, than the President and a thousand times more fear-inducing. The fact that no one can say for sure whether the Game Master is a man or a woman shows just how mysterious this figure is to Panem.

Someone with that much power, and yet seemingly with no one to answer to, could get away with anything and he often does. Everyone involved in any way with the execution of the Hunger Games lives in constant fear of the Game Master, including my students and I. The thought that I could simply disappear and no one would dare ask why is enough to give me chills.

I shake my head to remove myself from the dark thoughts. The Game Master is perhaps the only thing keeping me in this position. Just a few months after I had returned to the Capitol from District Ten I received a strange message in my inbox offering me the job. I all but snorted and deleted the message, and would definitely have done so, until I read the signature line. The signature itself was illegible but the title underneath was what caught my eye.

The message had been sent from the Game Master.

I spent almost an hour trying to decipher the signature, the prospect of knowing the Game Master's name too much for my curiosity to ignore. Then without warning the message was gone and a new one took its place, telling me where and when to go to find out more information on my new position. This one had no signature line.

So here I am, over three years later stuck in a job I was tired of before I even started in order to appease someone that I will never know. I sigh and turn back to the task at hand, going through the remaining three team files. I began with seventeen files and after flipping through them for nearly three weeks I have finally managed to narrow my options down.

The campaign meetings with each of the team leaders have already been long finished, yet I consider calling the remaining three back to talk to me again. I simply hate making this decision each year, but there is no avoiding it so I find no need in drawing it out any longer. I resolved myself to choosing by tonight, and I'm sticking to it.

Each of the three teams that are left would do well in my eyes, but if I have learned anything in my time here it's that there is always one who will be slightly better. Physically, they're all almost identical. Two of them contain one of each fighting style- long, mid, and short range. The third contains two long and one short.

I toss that file to the floor and rearrange the other two in front of me. Both team leaders are so identical they would swap places and I wouldn't know the difference. The mid ranges as well are so close in skills and personality that I mentally cross them off my list. Selecting a team at this stage is always the hardest part. Discrepancies begin to disappear entirely and all I'm left to work with is students and individuals. Are there any weak links? Do the team members mesh well together? Any history if arguments reported by trainers or other students? Those are the things I have to start to look at, and it gets tiring.

I sigh and begin to look at the long range members. Both are females that entered the Academy at very young ages, and both have amazing reviews from all of their trainers. The difference comes from one comment by a trainer from back when the girl, Pyrrha, was thirteen. It would have been her first year with her team members- Odin and Eros- so most of their time would have been spent together in training.

Apparently, young Pyrrha was suspended to solitary training for a week after she gave a boy in her year a cracked rib and a bloody nose. The comment from the trainer is what catches my eye. Her partners had held back the two members of the boy's team after he had called them over to help him. Though fighting is frowned upon during training, it rarely is enough to cause a flag in the system which is why I must not have seen it until now. Teamwork like this displays to me at this age, when the three of them would have only met a few months prior, is not something I hear about every day.

That is enough of a difference for me and I toss the other file on the floor where it lands atop the other rejected files. I hold up the inside page which contains the three names of the students along with their most recent headshots.

Eros Abner, Pyrrha Cortese, and Odin Jurado- Panem's next Gladiators.

I can only hope I've made the right decision.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey everyone, no submissions are not closed yet but since this is such a complicated idea I figured I should post three prologues instead of my usual two. More room to develop my new verse, you feel me?**

 **Thanks so much to everyone that has submitted and reviewed so far! I've gotten quite a few very good tributes and I have to say that I am honestly overwhelmed by the quality of tributes I have received. Submissions are still open until May 27** **th** **for anyone that has not yet submitted and would like to.**


	3. Suffering Part Three

" _This is the way the world ends_ _  
_ _Not with a bang but a whimper."_ _  
_ _―_ _T.S. Eliot_

* * *

 **Sibela Boswell, Head Warden, District Zero**

* * *

"Miss?"

I look up and see my young assistant, Kiala, poking her head into my office. Her eyes are wide and her crooked teeth bite down hard on her bottom lip. Kiala has only been my assistant for a few months now, but she is a good girl and I enjoy her company even when her age shows. Something has definitely frightened the young girl, though, because she never interrupts me in my office when the door is shut.

"Come in, dear," I say, waving my hand to signal her to step inside. "What did you want to ask?"

"There're some men here to see you," she whispers, peering behind her as if expecting them to have followed her inside. "They got guns."

"They _have_ guns," I correct her automatically. The young boys and girls that I hire each year to work for me are always quite poorly spoken, not that I can blame that on them. "Did they say anything or did you just scurry back here to tell me."

Her face goes red and she stares down at her feet, drawing my attention to her filthy shoes. I sigh despite myself. I really can't blame them for their poor appearance, but it still bothers me. Normally, I would have workers imported from other district as expected since most of the... people here cannot be trusted in such a position as this. I've had an adult man steal from me when I first began this job, back when I was naive to the desperation that many Zero citizens succumb to.

I've had better luck with the children, especially those that have kept their record up. By the time they get within a few years of their release from District Zero at age twenty, there is almost no danger of them messing it up. Unfortunately only about three-five are released each year out of hundreds that could have been eligible. One of my goals in coming here was to raise that number, but it has proven much more difficult than I had thought it would be.

"They just said to get the Head Warden," Kiala says quietly, her eyes still on her shoes. I tap my desk to bring her attention back to my face, another habit of mine. "And that's you, Miss."

"Alright, you may stay here," I nod at her and I can see the relief as plain as day on her face. Kiala is a sweet girl, and understandably frightened of men with guns. The culture of District Zero is not a kind one, even I who is protected by walls of security and brick know that. It's not only the Peacekeepers who have access to weaponry, it's one of the larger problems that I am currently facing.

When I walk out of my office I understand immediately why Kiala had been so terrified. There are at least ten bulky officers standing in front of the main desk, each of them holding one rifle and having another strapped to their back. Their faces are covered with tinted bulletproof shields and they are covered from head to toe in black, heavy armour. As soon as I step through my office doors, the one at the front steps forward and presses a button on the side of his helmet to reveal his face.

I nod my recognition. "Herald, your team has arrived early I see."

"Yes ma'am," he says in the thick Capitol accent that I have thankfully all but lost since moving to District Zero. I can smell his breath even from a few feet away and I resist the urge to wrinkle my nose. I house no respect for Herald and his team, never have and never will. I do not agree with the methods that they use and their arrival each year causes havoc as soon as the citizens realize that they are here. I can already feel a stress headache beginning between my eyes at the thought.

Herald wastes no time in handing me the folder. I don't even have to open it to know what it contains, but as I am expected to I open it to the first and only page. A list of names, supposedly randomized from a list of District Zero citizens, all of them children and most of them not ringing any bells. There are two on the list that I do recognize, mostly from recent infractions, but there are far too many to deal with each day that I am unable to picture their faces.

I wave Herald into my office, leaving the rest of his team behind to wait. Kiala looks at the two of us with wide eyes when we enter, standing to show respect for my guest.

"Thank you Kiala," I say, nodding to the door. She takes the exit thankfully, nearly out the door when Herald catches her by the arm and instructs her to prepare him a cup of coffee, black. I scowl but say nothing. It is expected that I welcome Herald and his team each year, even if it repulses me to see him treat my staff with such disregard.

I sit down at my desk with Herald standing over my shoulder as I type my pass code into the old relay device. I glance at the names as I enter them into the system and when I'm done I sit back and allow it to retrieve their information. Schedules, barrack assignments, jobs if any, family members. Anything and everything that the recon team could possibly need in order to locate the names on the list.

As soon as everything has been organized from the system it ejects another piece of paper which I hand to Herald. He hums as he reads it, a tuneless song, and I wait for him to simply nod and leave. I wish for him and his team to go out and do what they have been instructed to do and then leave. Having Capitol officers on top of the Peacekeepers in my district is distressing to everyone and namely to myself. After the riot that happened three days ago, I am not eagerly awaiting another.

"Perfect," he nods and shoves the list into the folder of names. "I trust you've had our barracks prepared?"

"I would have, but you arrived earlier than usual. I wasn't expecting you for another two days."

"They moved things up," he shrugs, obviously not at all unravelled by the schedule changes. "We're going to go to Sector A first thing when we leave here and get through to E by tonight. We should be out of here in two to three days give or take."

"Wonderful," I say, not trusting myself to say more. I am supposed to respect Herald and his team for the work that they do in gathering the tributes for the Hunger Games, but all I want to do is turn them away the second that they arrive. I do so much work in trying to get Zero up onto its feet and every year they are torn back into chaos because of them. I took this job to make a difference in Panem, a silly notion yes but we were all once young and ambitious, but I have made no further progress than the Head Wardens before me.

I'm beginning to think that District Zero cannot be saved. Maybe I should have realized this all along. The poor children who are born here, or worse deported with their parents from elsewhere in Panem, never even stood a chance. The children that Herald will be bringing to the Capitol a few days from now will be mostly guilty of simply existing. An act punishable by death.

* * *

 _ **The Tributes**_

 _ **Sector A**_

 _ **Quentin Reiss, 18**_

 _ **Cadria Arias, 17**_

 _ **Sector B**_

 _ **Micah Theron, 18**_

 _ **Aislinn Keymar, 18**_

 _ **Sector C**_

 _ **Ingo Arvallian, 18**_

 _ **Leighton Shaller, 18**_

 _ **Sector D**_

 _ **Griffin Mastiff, 16**_

 _ **Kaelyn Powell, 13**_

 _ **Sector E**_

 _ **Klay Deravral, 18**_

 _ **Eloise Bailey, 15**_

 _ **Sector F**_

 _ **Decker Vanes, 15**_

 _ **Valora Cordett, 18**_

 _ **Sector G**_

 _ **Ronan Traupelle, 17**_

 _ **Shaera Hanslok, 18**_

 _ **Sector H**_

 _ **Everett Montclair, 15**_

 _ **Alanis Marcham, 14**_

 _ **Sector I**_

 _ **Alastair Caine, 17**_

 _ **Demetra Van Sant, 16**_

 _ **Sector J**_

 _ **Topher Darosa, 12**_

 _ **Blair Myles, 18**_

* * *

 **A/N: Congratulations to everyone who sees their tribute on the list! If you don't... Well there's always next time? I will not be PM'ing people who were rejected simply because I do not have the time. As always if you would like some answers as to why your tribute might not have made the final cute you are free to message me.**

 **The blog is now up on my profile! Take a look!**

 **I am very, very pleased with the quality and variety of tributes that I have received! This story is already starting out on the right foot. I hope to get the story moving as soon as possible, starting with what I have decided to call the recon POVs. Basically they will take place in District Zero either before, during, or after Herald's little team has snatched them up.**

 **As always reviews are much appreciated especially considering this story does veer pretty far away from canon. Any and all feedback, whether it be negative or positive, would be amazing to have.**

 _ **Who are your three favourites from the blog?**_

 _ **Which Gladiator would you be least keen to run into in the arena and why?**_

* * *

 **That is all for now, hopefully I will be posting very soon the next chapter for this story as well as the epilogue for** _ **Devils and Dust**_ **(for those of you who may be waiting for that). Until then!**


	4. Quite Hopeless

" _The whole thing is quite hopeless, so it's no good worrying about tomorrow. It probably won't come."_ _  
_ _―_ _J.R.R. Tolkien_ _,_ _The Return of the King_

* * *

 **Quentin Reiss, 18, Sector A**

* * *

It's well into the late morning by the time I finally open my eyes.

Less than a second later, when I roll over to make the long journey out of bed, do I remember the aching of... well everything. I groan at the memory of the fight that happened last night just hours after dark and well past when we all should have been inside for curfew. Thinking back I know that I should have brought someone with me, but it's easy to say that as an afterthought. The truth is I didn't think they would come after me so soon. I was lucky there were only two of them, and that neither of them had anything more deadly than their own strength.

I got out with nothing but bruises and a possibly dislocated shoulder, which I find pretty impressive to say the least. Nevertheless I can't even pretend that I didn't lose that fight. I scold myself for a moment, promising as I always do that I will keep my mouth shut around the boys I know are trouble.

Fat chance.

I'm not a pushover anymore, and though I definitely lose more fights than I win, I'm fending for myself just fine in my eyes. I've only been in this hellhole for a few months now and I've already made a decent reputation for myself. A few more months from now and maybe I'll get picked up by one of the crews. That would certainly make things easier for me if I had someone I could sort of trust to watch my back. District Zero can be a pretty scary place if you don't keep an eye on yourself.

The ache in the back of my head tells me to stay in bed, but I know that I've got to get back out and show the guys who messed with me that I will not be kicked down for good. It's the way of life here, constantly having to prove that you're tougher than the people around you. If you can't at least fake it you're going to get eaten alive in this place.

The seven boys that I share my room with are already long gone, probably off to the mountain or whatever it is they do all day. Luckily none of them seem the type to cause trouble, at least not for me which is all I can really ask. I can't even imagine how tough things could have been if I shared a room with one of the boys that tried to beat the living shit out of me last night.

I shove everything I own that is of any importance to me into a bag and sling it over my shoulder. One of the most important lessons I have learned upon coming here is that if there is anything you care about you keep it close. Processing will pay for odds and ends that look valuable, and they don't care where people got them from.

I can feel all eyes on me from the second that I step into the hallway. I haven't gone to the bathroom yet to check the damage, but by the stares I'm getting right now I can tell that it won't be good. I see one of the bullies come around the corner and I silent groan to myself. I've only been awake for a few minutes and already my day is getting off to a pretty bad start.

When he passes me I dodge out of the way, and sure enough I was right to anticipate the push. His arms hit nothing but air and he stumbles. I bite my tongue, but it does nothing to wipe the smile off of my face.

I may have dodged the initial push, but when the second comes from behind me I am not expecting it. I catch myself on the wall before I hit the ground and turn myself in his direction. His face is bright red and once again I have to consciously dim the brightness of my smile.

"You ain't so tough," he smiles down at me, crossing his arms as if to dare me to make a move on him. I'm not stupid, I can be almost certain that there will be more from his crew not too far away. I hold his gaze but I do not make a move on him. The boy is a twig and I could easily take him, but that's what I thought a few days ago and look what that brought me last night.

Just before he turns around to leave he spits on me. It takes everything I have not to immediately wipe the disgusting saliva from my neck, but manage to hold his stare until he continues in the opposite direction. When he's out of sight I use the bottom of my sleeve to wipe it away and wish for some sort of sanitizer. District Zero is nothing like the Capitol, where everything is clean and perfect and sanitary. I still haven't fully adjusted to the differences.

As soon as I enter the cafeteria I can feel that something is wrong. Usually the place is full of yelling and arguing over portions, but today it is eerily silent except for the clattering of dishes. Everyone is either watching the doorway or the Peacekeepers that are posted around the sides of the room. Some look fearful, most look angry. It isn't until the Peacekeepers move away from the walls that I realize the difference. Their uniforms are not white.

In a second everybody in the room is moving. One of the Peacekeepers grabs for my arm, but three boys I barely recognize tackle him to the floor before he can reach me.

The smallest of the boys turns and yells at me in the harsh Zero accent, his brown eyes wild. "What are you doing, scum? Run!"

So I do, but I don't make it far. Not even outside of the doors before I am flanked on all sides by more of the black-suited Peacekeepers. They tell me not to be afraid, and one of them slams the door of the cafeteria just before more people can get to me. I don't understand what is going on, but with no other choice I allow them to lead me away.

* * *

 **Cadria Arias, 17, Sector A**

* * *

I bite my lip as I stare at the door to the Plant. It's a big building, almost as big as the barracks, but no one pays it much attention as they pass by. I try not to pay it much attention too, so that people won't know my intention of going inside, but it's hard to ignore when you've been planning the day for so long.

I try to focus my eyes on the bits of trash in front of me, picking half-heartedly through the pile that has nothing much more interesting than wrappers in it. I can feel the metal scraps weighing heavily in my pocket, but fear keeps me from making the trip over to the Plant yet. Today is the day, but maybe not yet.

I force myself to stand, putting all of my effort into making my face look tough like the crew kids. I have never been one of them, never been asked to be even, but I have memorized the muscles it takes to make your face look like theirs. Only other crews mess with crew kids, and right now I don't see any of the usual ones around. This part of the mountain has too many guards around that crews tend to leave it be, but that doesn't mean it's safe for me to just walk on up.

There are people around here that would do a hell of a lot for the metal in my pockets. It will get a good price, and valuables are getting harder and harder to find around here without thieving them. When I was younger I had plenty of things taken from me, mostly right here outside the Plant, but since then I've learned.

"Aye! What's a girl like you doing here, doll?"

"I'll take her home- safe and sound she's right to be!"

I say nothing as I pass the pair of older men. Neither of them are scary. I used to think the adults were scary, but it's the kids my age that you ought to watch out for. The worst they can do at their age is yell out to me, but I'm used to that since I been hearing it for so long.

One more look around tells me that there are no crews close enough to get to me before I can get to that door. I walk as fast as I can without looking like I'm up to no good, but in the time it takes to reach the door all my confidence has pretty much vanished. There is no hiding where I'm going now, and I can feel people's eyes on me as they begin to notice.

I push through the double doors before anyone says anything, but I know that the second I go back outside they'll be waiting for me. Most people bring more people with them to wait outside the Plant for them, but not me. I don't have anyone tough like that, just me really. Liam's too scared to even come in here, that's why I do it for him. Two times out of three I get home without any of the money I was paid, but that one time is enough to keep coming.

"You just gon' stand there or what?"

I look up and see a big man staring at me from behind a desk. His voice sounds kind of funny on account of him being behind glass, but I don't laugh. My hands are still shaking from just the thought of getting thieved from. I don't have any business laughing at his voice, especially when it would only bring more trouble my way.

"I have metal," I say firmly. There's no point in making my time here any longer than it should be, not with those people probably waiting for me.

This catches the man's attention. Metal is rare and one of the most expensive valuables people pick from the mountain. He slides open a little square on the glass and reaches out a hand covered in a blue glove. I reach into my pocket and drop the two crumpled sheets of metal into his palm. I hold my breath as his hand disappears. I know that it's metal, but sometimes they try and tell us it isn't so that they don't have to pay as much. I know what I know, though, and I won't be cheated especially if there's a chance I might actually get this money back home.

"Five for it all," the man says.

"Ten," I retort without hesitating. It used to scare me to argue with them, but I've come to learn that they always offer less than it's worth at first.

"Seven," he counters. "Final offer."

"Seven," I echo sheepishly. I think I know it's worth more, but it always scares me when they say final offer. I haven't tested if it will actually be their last offer, but I don't want to walk out of here with the sheets still in my pocket. It's dangerous enough keeping them on me for as long as I did.

"Alright," he grins. "Put out your hand so I can scan you."

I do as told. This is what always happens when you go anywhere you wouldn't usually go, like the Plant or the Warden's House. I never asked why they do it and they never offered a reason. It's just how things work here.

He looks down and squints at something I can't see from where I'm standing. Then he looks back at me. "Stay right here, I have to get your coins from the back."

This has never happened before. Usually they keep all the coins with whoever is at the desk. I bite my lip but don't argue, though something doesn't feel quite right. I can't place the feeling, but it's there rumbling in the pit of my stomach.

My breath catches in my throat when I see the black-suited man approach me from around the corner. I don't have to look long to know what he is, seen enough of them around here over the years. I want to run but my feet are frozen in place and the man easily places a pair of cuffs around my wrists.

"Don't worry you're not in trouble, sweetheart." His voice is warm as it touches my ear, but I've never in my life felt my blood run this cold.

* * *

 **Micah Theron, 18, Sector B**

* * *

I come back up from the cafeteria, thankfully without incident, holding a cold glass of water. It was the closest thing I could find to ice, which I would have had to get from the infirmary. There was no way that Xavian was going to let me go there, evidently that's only the place to go if you're dead or dying and even then it would have to be by force.

Xavian's-and my- room is on the tenth floor of the barracks. We share it with four other boys around our age, but all of them are okay in Xavian's eyes. He once told me about the boy that he kicked out of our room when he welcomed me to live with him. He says he was happy to get rid of him. I would be lying if I said I didn't know what that meant, and I don't lie.

"Xavian?" I say as I creep into the room. It's well past the time when we should have left from the mountain, but Xavian has been in no condition to leave the room for the past few days. That's when one of the boys of a crew saw Xavian get a little too close to stealing from his pocket. From what Xavian told me the next day when he came to, he hadn't known that they boy was one of the newest members of Graham's crew. No one messes with his boys, not even Xavian.

He was lucky to get out with a few cracked ribs and a broken nose, not to mention the deep bruising that covers every visible part of his body. In the three years since I was brought here with my father I have seen worse, but not without some sort of weapon involved.

"Took you long enough," Xavian says, his teeth gritted. I know that it hurts him to talk, and I've advised him to just be silent, but silence doesn't look to be something Xavian is fully capable of.

"Sorry," I say sheepishly. I took the long way, up the side stairs near the Peacekeepers' offices, to get here. I know that Graham's crew is still on the lookout for Xavian, and that means probably for the few people that Xavian associates with too. He says that he wouldn't exactly call us a crew, but except for being only a few in number I'd say we basically are one.

When I first came here there were a lot of bullies that saw me as an easy target, and Xavian and his friends took care of that for me for whatever reason. He says that it was just business, that he knew he needed more people that he could trust in this place, but I like to imagine he thinks of me as a friend. I was a scrawny fifteen year-old with nothing to offer him, but he showed me how it works here in Zero. I don't think I would have made it too well without his help, I've never been the violent type and that seems to be one of my biggest problems here.

"I need you to go run some things over to the Plant," Xavian says seriously. I place the glass of water down on the floor beside his bed and he gives me a look. "Wait, what the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

I bite my lip. "I couldn't find any ice."

"So... Water, gotcha," he rolls his eyes. "Whatever, can you take some things over before it closes?"

"Sure thing." Truthfully, I would never say no to Xavian even if he asked me to jump off the top of the barracks. For better or for worse, he is all the family I have here in Zero. My father is here with me, but he spends all his time in the kitchens and left me for months to fend for myself before Xavian found me. I try not to be bitter about it, but if I saw him in the streets I would head the other way.

"Wait, shit you can't go alone," he says. I open the bag that is tucked underneath his cot, knowing that he must have the stuff hidden in there. I find a small piece of metal and a chain that looks sort of like a necklace. It doesn't look like much, but here in Zero this will go for a good price.

"Why can't I?" I ask. Even though I know he's right and I do not particularly want to go alone, it's nice to put on a brave face once in a while so I don't look like a complete wimp.

"Normally I'd say to test your luck, but this is my shit we're talking about so can it. Go see if Crispin is around, he'll go with you. If not we'll wait til tomorrow."

I nod and shove the valuables in my pocket. Crispin's room isn't very far from ours, and sure enough he's sitting on his cot with the door open when I pass by. He isn't excited about going to the Plant, but as a good friend of Xavian's he only complains a little before he agrees to come along.

"Aye, scum!" My body freezes when I hear the voice. The hallways are mostly empty, with everyone either in the cafeteria or down at the mountain. Crispin and I both turn around and see them, three of the senior members of Graham's crew.

I swallow thickly, wondering if I would be able to make it back to Crispin's room to lock the door before they'd catch me. I know that I wouldn't, and Crispin must know it too. He already has his fists raised, not threateningly but ready to defend himself. I copy his stance, but I'm not sure it's very convincing.

"Boys, is everything alright out here?" A Peacekeeper comes out of one of the rooms nearby and I audibly sigh with relief. Peacekeepers almost never intervene in crew fight, but this one looks like he will. He walks over and looks at each of us in turn, the other boys shrink under his gaze though I'm not sure why. When his eyes reach me, he squints and presses something on the sleeve of his outfit. I've seen them do this before, and I can only guess he's looking at something on his helmet screen.

"Micah Theron?"

I gulp. "Yes."

"Come with me please," he says roughly, grabbing the inside of my arm. I ask him where we're going but he doesn't answer me. I have no choice but to follow him, the black fabric of his uniform rubbing against my arm as we head down the hallway.

* * *

 **Aislinn Keymar, 18, Sector B**

* * *

The cafeteria is packed this time of the day, which is just perfect for me. I look around for someone that I recognize, settling on a trio of girls that I met briefly a couple weeks ago. The smallest of the girls eyes me suspiciously, but the other two seem unaffected by my presence.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?" I ask, placing my tray down in an empty place before they can answer. I slide onto the bench beside the redheaded girl, across from the smallest girl so that she will not be able to see what I'm doing. I haven't been doing this so long that I'm unafraid of being caught, actually the fear of detection is one of the best parts.

"Eh, sure why not. Aislinn right?" The third girl says. I remember her name, Katarina, but the other two I can't place. Katarina has long, tangled brown hair and dark eyes. She's pretty, but not pretty enough to be picked up by a crew boy evidently. That's what usually happens to the attractive girls, they get in with a crew by sleeping with one of the boys. Makes the girls that actually earn their places in a crew look like sluts, but people do what they have to do I suppose.

"You got it," I say. I pick up my fork and start eating, purposely allowing them to get back into whatever conversation they were having before I arrived. I keep one hand under the table so that I won't have to make any sudden movements when the time is right. I want as little of their attention as possible, and that's precisely what I get.

I'm good at what I do, not the best but certainly up there. It's what landed me in this place after all, well my mother and I both. It's the family business, some would say. It's what made our lives possible back in District Eight and it's what destroyed us by getting us deported to District Zero two years ago. It's also what helped us put ourselves back together when we arrived. Thieving is part of who we are, even if it makes us secretly part of one of the most despised groups of people in Zero.

I've only been caught five times, my mother only once since coming here. She's good and I'm getting better each time. Apart from working in the kitchens, thieving is what keeps us from living without. If people were more careful about where they kept their valuables we wouldn't be able to do what we did. Since they're not, well who can honestly say that it's our fault?

By the time I have finished whatever it is that I have eaten, I have already found what I needed and pocketed it. It feels like metal, but I won't be sure until I am in private and can take a proper look. If it's metal than I've hit the jackpot- besides jewellery it's one of the priciest valuables people find at the mountain.

I wait several minutes before leaving, forcing myself to laugh at the bits of gossip that the girls are discussing. I've never quite made friends in Zero, but by the looks of things I'm not missing out on much. I'm a loner at heart, always have been according to my mother, and friends seem useless to me. Theer are only two people in this place that I care about and they're my mother and I. Everyone else is simply irrelevant.

"I have to get back to the kitchens," I say finally, mock frustration thick in my voice. "See you around sometime?"

"Course," Katarina grins. "Small world Sector B is."

I turn around and head towards the kitchen doors. I wasn't lying about that, my shift really does start in a few minutes. I'll pass the valuables onto my mother when I get in, she should be leaving soon and she can make the trip over to the Plant.

As soon as I get inside the kitchens I grab an apron and head over to the soup station, where I expect my mother will be as always. Surely enough, there she is taking the pots off the burners and piling them into the sink. She hears me coming and turns around before I can even say a word.

"You gotta learn to erase the guilt from your face, else someone's bound to catch on."

I roll my eyes, she always tries to give me tips even though I don't want them. I don't feel guilt about steal from the red-haired girl so therefore it wouldn't make any sense for anyone to say I look guilty. I take the last pot off the burner and pass it over to the sink.

Just as I always do, I wrap my mother in a hug and pass the valuables into her apron pocket. She'll move them into her sleeve when she leaves and no one will ever see them. That's the most important part of our plan, to act as if you ain't got anything worth taking. Otherwise another one like us would take it off our hands. The work isn't done when you get the things, you gotta learn how to keep them too.

I flinch and spin towards the door when someone pushes it open. Hardly anyone is in this much of a rush to get into the kitchens, and I get a bad feeling about it as soon as I notice. Sure enough, my suspicions prove right when two men in black uniforms rush in.

My mother throws her arm around me, as if that might do anything to protect me if they are indeed here for me. I recognize their uniforms, as most people in Zero would. The recon team, here only once a year to collect two teenagers from each sector. It doesn't take me an awful long time to realize that I'm the only one in the kitchen that could possibly be of eligible age.

* * *

 **A/N: Alright here we are! The first of five pre-Capitol chapters, featuring the tributes of sectors A and B. I'm pretty excited about how this chapter turned out, and I hope it's giving everyone a decent feel for this new verse that I've created.**

 **Reviews are awesome and always appreciated. Especially with something this different I'd love for people to give me any comments that they think would help me to improve the quality of the story. This is as new for me as it is for all of you, and any help would be happily accepted.**

 _ **Which is your favourite of these four tributes?**_

 _ **Who are you most looking forward to reading about out of the other tributes?**_

 _ **Comments, questions, concerns?**_

* * *

 **Since I do in fact have a lot on my plate right now with two collaborations going on along with this story, I am expecting to update roughly once a week. It could be more, depending on what I have going on with those, but I hope to update at least weekly from now on. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, until next time!**


	5. Silent Sufferers

" _There are far too many silent sufferers. Not because they don't yearn to reach out, but because they've tried and found no one who cares."_ _  
_ _―_ _Richelle E. Goodrich_ _,_ _Smile Anyway: Quotes, Verse, & Grumblings for Every Day of the Year_

* * *

 **Ingo Arvallian, 18, Sector C**

* * *

I groan as I wake up to banging on the door. I blink the sleep out of my eyes, or try I suppose, and sit up on the mattress on the floor where I had been sleeping. Mom and Cartier are already gone, probably to the mountain as usual. Granny is awake but still sitting on the only cot in the room. Neither of has ever been early risers and that isn't likely to change anytime soon.

I already have my suspicions about who will be at the door when I open it. I don't say anything about it but as soon as I get up to answer it, it becomes clear that even Granny knows what's about to happen.

"Give 'em hell, Ingo."

"My pleasure," I smile. I sound far more confident than I really feel, but that's always been my style. Who needs quick fists when you have quick wit, anyway? I don't fancy myself much of a fighter, but there are so many easier ways to knock someone off their feet- figuratively of course.

Even though I know what to expect, the sight of the four boys standing outside my door still makes my heart beat quicken. They're from Roy's crew so of course they're huge and look like they'd want nothing more than to play volleyball with my head. I mentally curse myself for yesterday, but how was I supposed to know that that girl was from Roy's crew? Girls in crews at all are rare, and she didn't exactly look like the whore type.

Still I suppose it wasn't wise of me to pick a fight with her, but I guess I'll have time to beat myself up over that while I'm nursing my injuries. I close the door behind me and breathe a sigh of relief when I hear the lock click into place. I'm not sure that these boys would stoop low enough as to put a hand on my Granny, but I'm not sure I'd put it past them either. At least she is smart enough to leave me to my own devices. It would be a lot worse for me if a little old lady came to my defence.

"What do I owe this visit to?" I say without meaning to. Shut up, I tell myself but when have I ever listened to that. "I apologize I'm not more nicely dressed for it."

One of the boys, the biggest one of course, grabs my shoulders and slams me into the door. "Shut it, scum."

"Well that's not-" I begin but I am interrupted as the boy brings his fist up to meet the side of my head. My vision spins and thankfully I don't say anything else. Apparently they aren't keen on conversation, but really when are they ever. They'll beat me up to whatever degree they were told to and then I'll go back out in a few days and say something else they don't like and repeat. It's a vicious, mostly pain-filled cycle for me but it's all worth it in my eyes.

I've lived in Zero for my entire life. I know what this place is and how easily it breaks people, yet here I am eighteen years in and still as full of life as ever. I was gifted with a sharp tongue and quick wit that has made me a lot of enemies in this place, but it's also kept me sane. Sure, every once in a while the crew leaders make me pay for it but often enough they leave me alone. I'm harmless, just a kid with a bark bigger than his bite.

Honestly half the time they don't even know I'm insulting them. I can be more obvious with the outer members, but yesterday I made a bit of a mistake. Marissa couldn't get word to me that the girl was Roy's right hand gal in time. Even though she was the one who brushed against me, I wouldn't have said anything quite that bad if I'd known who she was.

"What do you say we show him who he was messing with?" This time it's the shortest one that speaks. I want to laugh, but even I know that now isn't the time for more aggravation.

"Hey, what's going on?"

I am unable to wipe the smile off my lips when I see Marissa walking right into the centre of the little circle they've made around me. If you look at her face it doesn't even seem like she understands what is happening, but I know she is perfectly aware. The girl has guts, that's all I'm going to say.

"None of your business," the tallest boy tells her.

She raises an eyebrow and points at me. "You see, Ingo here is my friend so anything concerning him is my business."

"We said it ain't none of your business," the shortest one says again.

With Marissa here, I'm not as worried. I decide it can't hurt to speak up a little. "And she said she doesn't care, so."

"So what, scum?"

"Ask the lady," I smile, motioning dramatically towards Marissa. Her eyes are lit up and I know she's enjoying this. I'm still probably going to get my ass whooped, but might as well have some fun first. Besides, Marissa involving herself seems to have put them on edge. I don't blame them, the girl has that effect on people.

One of the boys near the back is thrown to the side, and for the first time the rest of us turn and see a trio of Peacekeepers standing very close. They've obviously seen everything, and for whatever reason they've decided to get involved. A one in a million chance really, but it's a well known fact that they don't appreciate fights in the living quarters.

"Break it up, kids," the closest Peacekeeper says, his voice bored. He moves through the four boys and gets a good look at the two of us. I'm sure I have a good bruise on the side of my head, in fact my ear is still faintly ringing. He pauses at me for long enough that I begin to get uncomfortable under his gaze.

"All of you, take it outside." When nobody moves he says it again. "Move!"

I begin to follow the others, mentally cursing the Peacekeeper that I had thought was coming to my rescue for the first time since I was probably seven. Just before I pass him, he reaches out and grabs my arm.

"Not you, son."

"Huh?" I am taken aback not only by his request but also by the force of his grip.

"Orders, son," the Peacekeeper sighs as he leads me down the hallway in the opposite direction. I turn and see Marissa looking back at me, confusion softening her features. She slips into her room when the Peacekeepers aren't looking and I turn back to the Peacekeeper. "Just following orders."

* * *

 **Leighton Shaller, 16, Sector C**

* * *

Before he can say another word I step forward and punch Rodney square in the face. He staggers back, clearly not expecting the blow, and puts a hand to his face. There is no blood, I made sure to miss his nose, but there'll sure be a nice, solid bruise in a couple of hours.

"What the hell?" He spits, cringing slightly from the blow but doing reasonably well in hiding it. I step back, never letting my eyes leave him. He steps towards me, nearly closing the distance between us before Lennon and Kalar grab him and pull him back. Rodney's new to this crew, but he'll learn soon enough just like everyone else. I'm not just some crew whore, not even in the faintest sense.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" He shouts. Kalar is whispering in his ear, telling him to calm his shit no doubt, but Rodney doesn't seem to be listening. From what I've found out about him, Rodney used to sort of a big shot in his old crew, one I never heard of until Roy brought it up. He'll learn soon enough.

I don't even bother to answer him, or even to glance in his direction. I begin to walk away when Roy pokes his head out of his office, a tiny room that has the only working lock in the abandoned place. He looks right at me and motions for me to come inside. I sigh but walk towards the door.

I walk right past him and sink into the chair on the opposite side of the room. He locks the door and perches himself on top of one of the tables. I always hate how he sits up there looking down at us, makes him look a hell of a lot more important than he is.

"What?" I say after a moment.

"Would it kill you to be nicer to the new boys?" He asks finally, running a hand through his shaggy, blonde hair.

I don't even consider what he's saying for more than a second. "Yes."

"Leighton," he says in a warning tone. I cross my arms against my chest. "You don't gotta fight all the new guys to prove you belong here. Everyone with half a brain cell knows you, they'll respect you either way and maybe if you didn't whoop their asses they'd like you too."

"They start it," I say flatly. "I'm just defending myself."

"I saw the whole thing with Rodney just now. You hit him first," he tells me.

"Well he was just an ass," I shrug.

"You make it very hard to run this place. Half the boys want you out," he tells me. Though it's nothing I haven't either heard before or figured out for myself, his words sting. "How much longer do you expect me to be able to tell them no?"

I shrug. "That ain't my bed to make."

He shakes his head but says nothing more and I take it as my cue to leave. I've never been worried about Roy tossing me out of the crew, hell he knows it would be a bad idea. I've known him since I was six and he was eight. He was already in with a crew because of his brother and was trying to work his way up. He tried to act tough, but I was an angry little bitch even back then. I whooped his ass and earned my way into his crew. That's the only way a girl can prove her worth to a crew as anything more than a stupid whore.

I've found my place in Zero without anyone's help. My father, the pedophile that got caught and had me and him shipped out here in the first place, hell I don't even know where the bastard is. As far as I'm concerned Roy and his crew are the only family I need.

"Recon!"

It's one of the lookout boys that screams the word, and everyone inside the building freezes. I am hardly outside the door, but Roy rushes past me and starts barking orders at everyone within earshot.

"Everyone inside! No one goes off alone! If they come in here, they gotta go through all of us!"

Boys grab the messily made weapons off of the shelves near Roy's office. I jump inside and grab two baseball bats out from under his desk. Roy snatches it from me as soon as he sees me.

"All the ineligibles near the front!"

There are close to fifty people in the crew, all of them boys except three of us. Both of the other girls have scrambled to the back of the room, but I join Roy near the front. I am still technically eligible, but really what are the odds they'd be here for me? I'd rather not tarnish my reputation by taking up a hiding spot. Not when my crew needs protecting.

There are a few seconds of silence before a team of at least ten people in black suits pour through the door. Roy and the other older members rush at them first, but they're ready with tasers already out in front of them. In a matter of seconds all of the boys are on the ground, and the rest of us cower unsure of what to do without Roy's orders.

"Leighton Shaller, come with us quietly!" One of the men yells over the panicked yelps of the younger members.

My heart nearly stops in my chest, and I am certain that I will simply fall over. They can't be here for me? That just isn't possible! There must be hundreds of other girls, why me?

I do nothing but stand there for a moment. The other boys, the ones that are still standing like Kalar and Rodney, look at me for orders. It makes my pulse quicken, knowing that I could easily order another wave at the intruders and try and escape. My gaze goes down to the boys on the ground, some of them twitching but others knocked out entirely.

Another thought comes to my mind. I have never seen the recons not get who they came for.

I step forward and allow them to take me away. I do not let myself look back to see the reactions of my crew, and no one comes after me. They're better off to forget, after all no one ever comes back after they've been taken by the recons.

* * *

 **Griffin Mastiff, 16, Sector D**

* * *

"You should probably go get something to eat, it's nearly twelve-thirty and the cafeteria closes lunch at one."

I turn my head to look at Alek for a moment, but I say nothing. I turn back to the page I had been reading. Books are sparse and very expensive to own so I've read this one over twenty times now, but I still enjoy it even now. I am too old for school now, and one of the biggest fears that I have is that I will lose the ability to read altogether like so many of the adults in Zero.

I won't much have reason to be able to read once Adler finally accepts me into his crew, but I still don't want to lose it. Maybe it won't make much of a difference, but the little hint of normalcy is enough for me. If Alek and I had never left District Six I would still be in school. I wouldn't have to read the same book twenty times over. I wouldn't have to worry about losing the skill. Things would be different for me.

"Come on, Griff," Alek sighs. "Talk to me."

I turn back to him and shake my head slowly. "No."

"Griffin-"

I cut him off before he can say another word. "Just stop."

Alek looks like I've just slapped him across the face, but it serves him right. What makes him think that after all these years I would ever want anything to do with him? Soon I'll have joined a crew and Alek will be out of my life forever. I won't have to hear him pretend to care about if I'm taken care of. I won't have to see his face every morning and be reminded about how my life has been ruined because of him.

I was six when our parents died in a factory fire, and Alek was twelve. By District Six standards, he was old enough to take care of me and was considered my legal guardian since we had no other known family. I don't even remember our parents very well, but I remember Alek quitting school. I remember him getting a job, then getting fired, then getting another job. I remember the day that Peacekeepers came to our front door to take us away. I remember getting off the train and seeing District Zero for the very first time.

He had been caught stealing pretty fair amounts of money from the shopkeeper that he was working for. He never had to even think about doing that. We were doing just fine with the money he was making legally. He didn't have to steal anymore, but he says that he did it for me. I know he's lying, because he didn't do anything _for_ me on those days he chose to steal from Mr. Yorte. He did that _to_ me because now I have to live the rest of my life here in a place where I have no business being.

If he thinks I am ever going to be able to forgive him for that he must be insane.

I get up and go towards the door. I purposely say nothing to him as I pass his cot, but he doesn't seem to be up for a fight about this anymore. Just as well, neither am I.

Our room is on one of the top floors of the barracks, so I have to take several flights of stairs before I reach the cafeteria on the basement level. I go in through the kitchen and the man at the door scans my wrist before nodding me inside. I do not recognize the food that is put on my tray, but then again I seldom do.

I notice a couple of the boys from Alder's crew sitting near the door and I walk over to sit with them. They don't say anything to me, but they allow me to sit down so that's always a victory. Alder told me that his boys are strictly instructed not to befriend people outside of the crew, but that once I'm in they'll be a lot more welcoming. I sure hope that's true. The silent treatment is a getting a little old.

I finish my tray and decide to go for a walk near the mountain. I'm not in any hurry to get back to Alek, and I know that having me parade around the sector will drive him crazy. Precisely why I like doing it. I stand and give the boys a quick goodbye, but they don't so much as wave back.

As soon as I feel the hand on my shoulder I spin around with my fist in the air. I'm used to the trials, Alder sending his boys at me to see if I'm cut out for his crew, but it's been a while since the last one. My fist easily finds a landing point on the side of his head, but a tremor runs down my arm and the person in front of me hardly moves.

My blood goes cold when I see that it is not one of Alder's boys standing behind me at all. I recognize the uniform immediately, but my fear freezes me in place. I just punched a member of the recon team. I am a dead man walking.

The man seems less than amused, and he raises his taser to threaten me. It's unnecessary, but it proves to cause another tremor to run down my spine. We stand there for a few seconds, before he drops his taser to his belt and slaps a pair of handcuffs around my wrists.

"I've never been quite this glad to bring a tribute in," he whispers.

I have no idea what he's talking about when he says 'tribute', but I don't dare say a word as he leads me towards the stairwell.

* * *

 **Kaelyn Powell, 13, Sector D**

* * *

"Be a dear and take this over to table eight for me?"

I nod and accept the tray from the older waitress. I weave between the tables, smiling at the patrons as I pass them, until I reach table eight.

"Here you are, fresh and hot," I announce as I set the tray down in the middle of the table. The trio of older men smile at me and reach to take a piece of the garnished bread. I notice one of them whisper to another out of the corner of my eye and then they both look at me with even wider grins, but I pretend I don't see.

"Enjoy!" I call over my shoulder as I head back towards the kitchen. I've worked in this tavern since I was eight years old, when the owner Carmichael took me in after my parents never came home from a riot. After not hearing from them for almost five years, I am sure they must have been killed there, but there are no official reports so I'll never know for sure.

The tavern is Carmichael's livelihood, as he calls it. His father built it when Carmichael was only seven, and it's stayed right here ever since. Once it was burned badly in a fire, but even that wasn't that bad. It's been a stroke of luck to be able to keep this place going as good as he has. Especially since it's technically illegal to run it.

All shops are owned by the district, but they've allowed Carmichael to keep this place for whatever reason. The people love it because it's cheap and good break from cafeteria food. There are even Peacekeepers who frequent the place. Carmichael has been mighty lucky that they chose to turn a blind eye to the place.

I'm the youngest one that works here, but I can keep up just fine. The cook and the other waitresses are nice to me, and I like spending my nights here. Carmichael always jokes that he got lucky with me, but I know it's the other way around. He was friends with my parents, and after they died he sort of stepped in to help me out. There aren't many like him that would do that for a kid, at least not in Zero.

That's what I've always liked about Carmichael. He looks to be working in the opposite way that Zero works, and yet he's so successful here. It makes me want to grow up to be just like him, even though he says I'll be better off when I'm out of this place. As far as he knows there's still a chance that I'll get out of Zero when I'm twenty and I'm too ashamed to tell him that there isn't.

"Anymore trays to take out, Ylia?" I ask when I reach the window. Ylia is the head cook, and usually the only cook on most nights. She's old and rugged and yells at me as if I was hers, but I know she likes me all the same. She ain't as tough as she tries to look, but I wouldn't cross her either.

"Two right over there, darling," she tells me, pointing over her shoulder. I go in and grab the trays, doing my best to balance one on each shoulder so that nothing spills off.

Behind me, I can hear Ylia talking to Riley, one of the older waitresses. I try to listen in but they're talking really quiet so I can't hear much. I steady the trays and head back to the door, figuring that if it's anything I need to know I will be told sooner or later.

"Wait, Kaelyn," Ylia drops her spoon on the counter and takes the trays from me. I look at her sideways and she bends down, whispering loudly right in my ear. "There is a recon talking to Carmichael, Riley just came in here and told me."

My throat goes dry but I don't allow myself to show it. "So what?"

Ylia looks worried, and that worries me even more. She never looks like that. "Honey, you're the only youngin' in this whole place."

I swallow hard, the fear hitting me again. Just knowing that one of them was in here was enough to give me a scare, but the thought that they very well could be here for me well that is a whole new kind of fear. I clench my fists, willing myself to stay calm. "What do I do?"

"Carmichael won't tell him that you're here if I know him," Ylia says. "Just in case I think we need to hide you."

It's not hard to find a cupboard that I fit inside, even with the pots and pans. I can't hear anything from inside and I'm not sure whether it's a relief or not. I want to know what's happening, if the recon is leaving or if he knows I'm here somehow.

I flinch when I hear something slam. I realize I am biting the inside of my cheek only after I taste blood. I hear nothing else for such a long time that I start to believe that they must have left. A crash of pots and pans makes me jump again, then I hear a gunshot louder than anything I've heard in a long while.

I hear the cupboard doors swinging open beside me, but I don't know what else to do other than stay put. Is it possible that they'll skip this one? No, probably not. The light from the kitchen comes so suddenly that I am unable to see anything else but yellow for the first few seconds, though nothing is wrong with my ears so the voice comes clearly.

"Come on out dear, there's nowhere else to go."

* * *

 **A/N: Alright here I am! These chapters are so much fun to write, but I have a bit of schoolwork to do so they're not happening as quickly as I'd like. I'm also trying to make them as good as I can, which takes time so don't rush me!**

 **Reviews are awesome and always appreciated. Especially with something this different I'd love for people to give me any comments that they think would help me to improve the quality of the story. This is as new for me as it is for all of you, and any help would be happily accepted.**

 _ **Which is your favourite of these four tributes?**_

 _ **Who are you most looking forward to reading about out of the other tributes?**_

 _ **Comments, questions, concerns?**_

* * *

 **So I'm thinking that it will be about weekly that I'll update, which seems reasonable to me. It gives time for everyone to read without getting overwhelmed and gives me time to have more naps which is always a plus. Hope you are all enjoying so far, and next chapter will be the tributes from sectors E and F!**


	6. Interests of Survival

" _So, in the interests of survival, they trained themselves to be agreeing machines instead of thinking machines. All their minds had to do was to discover what other people were thinking, and then they thought that, too."_ _  
_ _―_ _Kurt Vonnegut_ _,_ _Breakfast of Champions_

* * *

 **Klay Deraval, 18, Sector E**

* * *

The fourth floor west hallway is bustling when I step out of the stairwell. All the better, I slip through the bodies without incident and make it to my family's room in a little over a minute. It's early morning, though obviously not as early as I had thought since so many people are already awake and heading for breakfast. I take a quick breath and wipe at the sweat on my forehead before opening the door.

I put a smile on my face just as I step through the doorway. Tova and my mother are sitting side by side on one of the two cots and I am relieved to see that my father isn't home. It's not that I particularly don't like it when he's here, but it just makes things a whole lot easier. It's like second nature to put on a smile for my mother and sister, but when I look at him it's like looking at myself in thirty years. Not exactly something that is apt to put a grin on my face.

"Klay!" Tova chirps as I close the door behind me. I hold out my arms to catch her as she runs to meet me, all the while pretending that I don't notice the questioning look on my mother's face. This isn't something that we are going to talk about in front of Tova, that has always been the agreement between us.

Besides, I'm sure she already knows where I was anyway. Does she really need to ask every time?

"Hey," I grin, inwardly cringing when I hear the fatigue in my voice. I left last night at sometime around ten o'clock, knowing full well that I would not be able to get out of the barracks so easily after curfew. I have only managed to do it a handful of times, and I can be pretty certain that those times were due to lazy Peacekeepers happening to be on duty those nights. If one plans on being out past eleven then one will be out for the entire night.

I finished what I had to do, namely running a sealed envelope between a crew leader and an older man by the name of Tio, by midnight but it's definitely not worth the risk to try and sneak in after curfew. I have acquaintances that I could call on to hide me for the night, but I've found it's impossible for me to calm down enough to fall asleep any place except my own bed. I spent the early morning hours lost in thought, so much so that I was later arriving home than usual.

"We were waiting for you to go for breakfast," she tells me. "What took you so long?"

I know that mother wouldn't have told her where she suspected I really was, so I go straight for the usual lie. "I fell asleep in Jarius' dorm, he was showing me some of the valuables he found yesterday."

Her eyes get big at the mention of valuables. Though she is still in school and my mother doesn't let her near the mountain, Tova has heard a lot about the things that people have found. Unlike her I never found the appeal of searching though garbage, but I'm almost glad she is interested. It won't be likely that she will get a job in Zero, so scavenging will probably end up being her life when she gets older.

"Did he find metal?" She asks, her eyes full of awe. I feel uncomfortable under her gaze, but if nothing else it has gotten somewhat easier lying to her as the years have went by. She's my baby sister, and if she knew where I really was and how dangerous it is I'm not sure she would understand.

I'm what most people call an information dealer, though that title is pretty misleading in my opinion. I don't have the information, in fact most of what I pass on is nonsense even to myself. Most of the time, like last night for example, it's nothing more than passing an envelope between the hands of people who are too scared to go out in the open and do it themselves. Other times it's a whispered sentence that would only make sense to the ones about to receive it.

I don't much understand the industry, but it's a huge on here in District Zero. It's dangerous to know more than the wardens want you to know, but people in hiding need ways of getting their messages out. I'm trusted with knowing their temporary locations, one of very few that are. They're terrified of being caught, and they should be. The wardens must know that the rebels exist, for what would an oppressed nation be without them?

I've met one of the others like me before, and she was just a little bit younger than me. I only saw her for a minute or two, but what surprised me most was what I didn't see in her. I expected that the others would be like me, but she wasn't. She didn't have that knowing, searching look in her eyes that my mother always told me I have. She didn't seem to _understand_ like I do.

Of course, I always have known more than I'm supposed to.

I have only taken a few steps away from the door when I hear a loud knocking. I give my mother a curious look over Tova's head, but she looks just as confused as I feel. I push Tova back towards the cot and take a slow breath before opening the door, unsure of what to expect.

"Klay Deraval?" I am taken aback both by the fact that the strange man seems to know my name, and just because of his appearance. He is dressed almost identically to a Peacekeeper with one obvious difference, his uniform is black from head to toe.

I straighten under his gaze, refusing to look frightened. I have learned not to show my emotions better than even my father was able to, but now with this man standing in front of me I can feel my body trembling. "Y-Yes, that would be me?"

"Come with me, son," the man orders. He clasps one hand over my shoulder and pulls me out the door without further explanation, using his free hand to slam the door before anyone has a chance to say another word.

As we march down the hallway I try and talk myself down. I knew that it could only be a matter of time before I was caught. It happened with my father, after all, but I was sure that I was smarter than him. I covered all of my bases. No one knew about it, not him and not my mother though I'm sure she suspected that I was lying to her about where I was sometimes. I wasn't like him at all, going around as if nothing in the world could touch him.

It kills me to think that maybe, even after all that I have done to improve on what my father did, the apple really didn't fall far from the tree after all.

* * *

 **Eloise Bailey, 15, Sector E**

* * *

Sylvie walks away from me before I can say another word, back to the table of friends that she isn't likely to have for very much longer. She is being childish, but I know how this routine works. It doesn't matter if you agree to my bargain the first time I set it, I will get what I asked for in due time that is simply how it goes.

It's been almost a year now since the three of us- Myself, my brother Isaac, and our friend Ihsan- were deported to District Zero. All in all, it wasn't much of the punishment that I'm sure they thought it was going to be. We all lived in District Three, and truth be told none of us really fit in there. Besides the filth and the living arrangements, I would actually prefer Zero to Three. In District Three I was destined to grow up, finish school, and get some kind of low-end job making computers or whatever. In District Zero, contrary to popular belief, there is more of a market for what we're selling and we've done much better here than we could have ever done back in Three.

The problem with what we're selling is that it isn't exactly a straightforward product, not like computers or relays or anything like that. Isaac, Ihsan, and I, we sell secrets and information. People always want to know what is really going on, and that's what we can get them for a decent price.

In District Zero, people are even more willing to buy our services. The only real obstacle we had in moving here was that we had to rebuild our networks, and that would take time. We're still not even close to the connectivity that we had in District Three but we're building. I don't think it will be long before we can start back where we left off and continue to move up.

Besides, we've already had the worst happen. We've already been caught selling misinformation to the people who ended up turning us in. The outcome that the three of us had dreaded from the moment we started working our way into the big leagues has already happened. Now, there is nothing more that they can really do to us. We're still careful, but our biggest fear doesn't exist anymore.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and when I turn around I see that it's just Kalea. She is one of my roommates, and has become an essential part of our operation. Isaac and Ihsan like having her around, mostly because she is build like a house and is probably tough enough to beat up ninety percent of the crew boys in our sector. I don't mind her, but I am just that little bit more careful to hold my tongue around her. The knowledge that she could put me out with one punch is good motivation for that.

"Isaac said you need to come to their room," she tells me, quiet enough that people who don't need to won't hear her but loud enough to blend in with the cafeteria sounds. That is one of the key understandings that the four of us seem to have, that blending in is the best way to remain out of suspicion. Once in a while, especially in the early stages of setting up connections that we are in now, it is necessary to out yourself but most of the time it isn't ideal. I can't wait until the time when we can go back to hiding behind darkness, notes, and screens when we do our work.

"Really? Now?" I ask. Isaac and Ihsan have been giving me the cold shoulder for the past couple of weeks and I am in no hurry to go running when they call for me.

"They said it's important," she says firmly. I roll my eyes but choose not to argue any further, most of that decision coming from not wanting to annoy Kalea. It bothers me to have to be so careful around anyone, but with my size I don't exactly have a choice. I'm a talker, not a fighter.

"Fine," I say and follow her out through the cafeteria doors and into the hallway. Since it is lunch time, the hallway is pretty bare with only a few late comers rushing inside. Within the first few steps, however, I get the overwhelming feeling that something is not right. More specifically, I can feel someone's eyes on me.

I don't allow myself to look around right away. Perhaps they are not really looking at me and suddenly moving might draw their attention. I follow Kalea just that little bit more closely as we walk. I have been beat up by the older, bigger kids just simply on the basis of being new to the place. I expect that I could get hurt around here for much less if I'm not careful.

"Freeze!"

I stop mid step, Kalea doing the same in front of me. I turn around slowly to see a man in a black Peacekeeper uniform looking directly at us, his hand on the pocket where I know that they keep their tasers. My heart is beating in my throat as he steps towards us, his boot steps echoing through the hallway.

"You," he says, clasping one hand firmly on top of my shoulder. He pulls me suddenly, causing me to stumble a few steps towards him. I try to keep my face neutral, but I can't imagine that I am doing a very good job of it.

"Follow me, quickly and quietly. I will use any force I deem necessary, so _don't_ make it necessary."

I nod sharply and follow quickly behind the man. I don't understand what is going on, but this moment feels like the all too familiar event that brought me here last year. We turn several corners, but I can't even concentrate on where we are going. All I can do is keep repeating to myself that there is nothing more they can do to me, but even as I think it I know that it's the farthest thing from the truth.

* * *

 **Decker Vanes, 15, Sector F**

* * *

"Hey look, it's a... a _thing._ "

Pina is holding her hand up high, signalling for Lock and I to come over and see whatever it is that she found now. Lock is the first to get up, but I'm less than thrilled to leave the pile that I had been pouring over for the past half hour. Sure enough, I'm not even two steps away before another kid takes my spot and starts digging through the papers.

"Oh wipe the sour look off your face and come look at this!" Pina chirps. I hadn't even noticed that I was making a face in the first place.

"What is it?" Lock asks, and I finally take a look at what Pina is holding. It kind of looks like a cup, only there is a tiny cap on the top that makes me think it must be something else. I don't think I've ever seen something so strange looking, even at the mountain.

"I dunno," Pina says, holding the thing close to her face. She tips it to the side and bit of water moves inside the cup part.

I point to the water. "There's stuff in it."

This time it's Pina and Lock that make a face as they look at the water moving back and forth as she tips it side to side. Pina tries to pop the top off of it, but instead it presses down and a spray of the water comes out.

She immediately drops it, coughing and wiping at her face where the spray happened to point at when it came out. I pick the thing off the ground and continue looking at it. I wonder if I brought it to my mom if she would know what it is. She is from one of the districts, so she would probably be able to tell me what it's used for and what it's called.

"Hey, it smells nice," Lock says. I sniff the air and sure enough a sweet scent fills my nose. Strange, maybe it's not water that's inside after all.

"It got in my mouth," Pina gags. It takes a lot for me not to laugh, but I manage up until the moment when I look over at Lock who is trying to hide his smile beneath his hand. Within seconds the two of us erupt in laughter, with Pina looking less than amused.

"I don't see what's so funny," she says, rolling her eyes.

I decide it's best to change the subject before one of us gets hit. Pina is not the type to take getting laughed at, not even from her friends. "I think my mom would know what it is."

"Take it," Pina says. "I want nothing to do with that thing."

"Cool," I say, pulling my bag off of my shoulder so that I can put it inside. I haven't been able to find much of anything besides a chain that is too rusted to be worth much of anything. Lock said earlier that he hasn't found a single thing that is even worth taking, and besides this thing I don't think Pina has either. A slow day for all three of us, but that's not too unusual. It's hard to find valuables here at the mountain, and even after hours and hours of looking you can't really be sure that you'll find anything worth a coin.

"Who's that?" I am more taken aback by the fact that Pina is whispering than by almost anything she could have said. I follow her motion and see three men in black walking around the edge of the mountain. They step carefully over the trash and, even though we can't see their faces through their helmets, I am certain that they are disgusted by the place. I am surprised that they are this close to the mountain at all, officials usually don't like to go near it because of the smell.

It doesn't register who the men are until I hear Lock whisper it. "Recons."

Slowly the three of us duck down to match the people around us. If there are recons here then it is for only one reason, someone here is their target. I have never myself seen someone being taken by the recons, but I've heard stories about it. My stomach turns at the thought that I'm about to witness one.

I try and reach out to dig through the pile like Pina and Lock are doing, but my hand is trembling too much to grab anything. Pina gives me a look that tells me to cut it out, but I can't. Someone here is about to get taken, it could be one of us even. I don't think that I have ever felt this terrified in my life, thinking back to all the stories about what happens to people when their taken. I know that my mom says that they're not true, but no one can be certain. All I know for sure is that no one that has ever been taken by the recons has come back to Zero.

I can hear footsteps behind me but I can't even bring myself to turn around. It's one of us, it has to be. Is this really happening? Am I about to see one of my best friends get taken away, or worse am I about to be the one that is taken? The silence around the mountain is like nothing I have ever experienced before, not even the old men that spend their days ogling over the girls are saying a single word. In all my time living here, I have never felt a silence quite this complete.

"Decker Vanes?"

Finally, I have no choice but to turn around and face the three men that stand behind me. I am shaking so hard by now that I am sure that I will not be able to stand up. They don't give me the chance to anyway, taking my attention as confirmation that I am indeed Decker Vanes they grab me by the shoulders and pull me to my feet.

"No sudden movements," one of them men tells me, but without seeing their faces I can't be sure which of them it was. The one at the back begins to walk away, and I am led behind him with the remaining two men on either side of me.

I flinch when something hits the back of the man in front of me. Suddenly there is trash flying from all angles, each piece aimed at the men leading me away but a good amount of it hitting me instead. The men do not seem at all affected by the flying garbage that is hurling towards them, nor by the curses that follow us as we exit through the gates of the mountain. I am too afraid to even swipe the blackened wrapper off of my shoulder.

* * *

 **Valora Cordett, 18, Sector F**

* * *

I tie the tattered sleeves of my sweater around my waist and grab my bag from beside the door. I take one last glance behind me, jumping a bit when I see that he is no longer sleeping and is instead sitting up with a thin sheet wrapped around his lower half.

"Do you have to go already?"

I am surprised by the shyness of his voice. Just last night he was the picture of what a crew boy should be- aggressive, macho, and in charge. I guess I shouldn't really be that surprised, the daylight does have a tendency to bring about their real characters. Anyone can be tough in the cover of the night.

"I do," I nod. I have learned that it isn't good of me to stick around any longer than necessary. I have already overstayed my welcome by staying the night. Most of the time I try and sneak back out when they've fallen asleep but I must have been more exhausted than usual last night. I don't know what time it is, but I have a terrible suspicion that I might already be late for meeting Niklaus.

The others watch me as I leave, but no one says a word to me. It's just as well, really, since I don't know many of them even in passing. It's impossible for me not to become familiar with the faces of the boys that would come after my friends and I, but the younger ones I couldn't care less about. They aren't going to do me any good, not like the older ones can.

Niklaus is the only boy I'm interested in, but unfortunately he isn't important enough to protect me from anyone. He's one of the tougher looking boys that isn't part of a crew, but that doesn't mean that they leave him alone. I'll never understand why he didn't settle in with one of them, it would have saved him from many black eyes and bruised ribs. He says that he wouldn't fit in there, but I think there's another reason he isn't telling me. Everyone in Zero needs protection, and the best protection comes from crews.

That's why I go with the crew boys every once in a while. If I didn't, they would take me anyway and at least this way I can have some sort of control over it. It's dangerous for girls not to belong to a boy that can protect her, and I've seen girls a lot younger than I am be pulled from the streets and raped for no good reason. At least if you belong to a boy, he'll protect you from that.

The problem is that Niklaus can't protect me. It's been a bit of a strain on us for a while, both the fact that he refused to even try and the fact that I have chosen to take it into my own hands. If he won't protect me then I will protect myself, and that has meant spending countless nights with boys that could protect me. Niklaus understands it, but he doesn't like it at all.

The streets are quiet in the morning as usual. There are many people that choose not to live in the assigned barracks anymore, including most of the kids in the crews. I still keep a room in the building with my family, but I spend far more nights elsewhere. Niklaus still lives in one of the shared boys rooms as well. He says that he likes the structure of life in there, but I think he's just scared of the streets.

I finally reach the outside of the barracks and the only outdoor working clock in the sector. It's just past eight now so if I hurry I should be able to catch Niklaus still waiting for me. He likes to check in with me on most mornings, especially the ones after nights not spent inside. I think it's sweet, but also bothersome if I don't make it there on time since he freaks out. I understand his concern, but he should know by now that I can take care of myself.

I can feel eyes on me before I even turn around. It doesn't feel like the usual sets of eyes, the boys or girls glancing at me as I pass by. I can _feel_ them, like they're burrowing into me. I make two right turns that I wouldn't normally make, hoping that the feeling disappears but it never does.

Finally, unable to stand it anymore, I turn around. The second I do I regret it as I watch the man in black step towards me. His uniform is unmistakeable, especially from this close up. A recon, and he's coming straight for me.

My first instinct is to run, but I know that it won't do me much good. I consider trying to climb on top of one of the buildings, but realistically he would be able to catch up to me before I made it even a foot off the ground. The recon gets closer and closer, but no plan comes to mind so I do the only thing I can think of knowing that I won't make it very far.

I take off running and I can hear the man's footsteps get faster as he follows me. I skid around a corner, wishing for some miracle that will make him trip or make a wrong turn or something. No such luck, and within seconds I feel his body run into mine and take me to the ground.

I cry out as my knees hit the cracked pavement. I scream at him to let me go, but there is no reply. Cool metal snaps around my wrists and I am pulled roughly to my feet. I choke back tears, but they come anyway and coat my cheeks in moisture. The man leads me harshly by pushing on the top of my back. I stumble, unable to even see where I am going with the tears clouding my vision.

* * *

 **A/N: This chapter was unmistakably more difficult for me for whatever reason. I struggled to place these tributes in District Zero without changing the aspects about them that I loved. In the end I think it worked, but I am not overall very happy with how this chapter turned out. I feel that the writing was not as strong as it should have been, which disappointed me greatly as I really do adore these four tributes.**

 **Reviews are awesome and always appreciated. There was a huge decline in the number of reviews I got for last chapter, which made me second guess myself a lot in this chapter. I hate saying that reviews affect the story, but they sort of do. I feel a lot better about the writing when I get some sort of feedback, even if it's just a sentence or two.**

 _ **Which is your favourite of these four tributes?**_

 _ **Comments, questions, concerns?**_

* * *

 **I feel like Thursday is an easier update day for me because of school. Again, I am not going to promise updates because I feel like that puts way too much pressure on me and stresses me out. I'm not about that life but I will try and update regularily-ish. Up next will be sectors G and H! Can't wait!**


	7. The Darkness Moves

" _You start with a darkness to move through_ _  
_ _but sometimes the darkness moves through you."_ _  
_ _―_ _Dean Young_

* * *

 **Ronan Traupelle, 17, Sector G**

* * *

The cafeteria is crowded. I can tell even while I'm still following the line through the kitchen waiting for the bored looking workers to drop today's ration onto my tray. This is how it is for the people who don't make any money of their own, we get the sanctioned rations from the cafeteria that look like puke and smell even worse. That's what most people spend their days working to get away from. People with money can buy better food from the outside shops. It's too bad I am not and never have been a guy with money.

Even back in District Four my family never had the coins to do anything but live, and even that sometimes could be a struggle. My father was out of the picture, taken away when I was young and never to be seen again by any of us. My mother did her best but unfortunately that was what landed us here in the first place. If she could have just let Wyatt and I take the reins and handle the family funds we could have made it. We were building something out of what dad left behind. It wasn't much but it could have been, I know it could have.

I don't hate her for it. How could I? She wanted to be sure, that's how she always was. She wanted to know for absolute certain that her four kids weren't going to go to bed hungry or wake up without a breakfast to look forward to. The only way she could be sure was to earn money herself, and that's what got her and all of us except for Wyatt shipped out here on her charges.

I hate it here, but I don't hate her for putting me here. She couldn't have known it would end up like this. She would never have done even entered the brothel if she'd have known this would happen.

A lady with clean hands but who is otherwise coated in grease spoons what I think is half-mashed potatoes onto my tray. I quietly thank her, not bothering to hide my disgust at the runny, chunky shit that's beginning to make its way into my nose. When I first got here I thought the problem with the food was portion size, but I've come to realize that they often give us a bit more than we really want to eat. If the food was better it'd be another story, but since it's isn't I won't complain about wanting seconds.

I have gathered a thin slice of meat, a spoonful of various greyed vegetables, and a glass of watered down milk before I'm finally ready to leave the kitchen. I'm only half paying attention by this time, wondering if there will be anyone I know inside and also hoping that if there isn't that there will be a spare table for me to sit at alone. I don't have very many friends here besides the friends of my mother that happen to have kids my age. I'm not much of social butterfly, but she has always been.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't even see the boys making a beeline for me before it's already far too late to avoid them. The one at the front of the pack slams a hand down on my tray hard enough that it slips from my hands and clatters to the floor. A combination of runny potatoes and watery milk splatters on the floor as well as onto the bottom half of my pants, while loose vegetables roll underneath nearby tables. I watch this as if in slow motion as a good portion of the cafeteria turns to see what's happening. With all eyes on me I can feel my cheeks start to heat up.

"Hey, watch where you're going, scum," one of the boys in the middle of the group yells towards me. Great, now this is my fault. I can't think of anything clever to say, and when they see my hesitation they continue.

"What do you have to say for yourself, kid," the boy who had hit my tray sneers towards me, casting a knowing glance behind him at his friends. "You went and got your mess all over me and I don't even get an apology?"

Finally I manage to get a hold of myself. I was never much of an assertive guy back in District Four but I've adapted and I've had to learn, usually the hard way, that kindness doesn't get you anything but hurt in this place. Even knowing that, I'm certain it's not the old me that answers the guy.

"If you could keep your clumsy ass away from my tray we wouldn't have this problem now would we?"

Even though I can still feel warmth in my cheeks, a sly smile takes over. I can tell by the look on each of their faces that I am not going to get away with this, but that's just fine. It's how the little guys like me survive. Maybe they won't respect me or even vaguely like me, but guys like this hate being told off. I can almost guarantee that next time they'll pick a different target, I mean after they finish beating the hell out of me that is.

The one who hit my tray takes a step forward, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Don't you dare talk to me like that, scum. I could have you killed with one word to my boys, don't test me."

"If I don't test you, how would I ever know if you're telling the truth?"

Just before the boy can answer I feel someone coming up behind me. Out of the corner of my eye I am relieved to see Jeremy, the boy who lives in the room next door to us. He's the same age as me but he's been here much longer than me. He knows better than me how to survive in this place, but I've never been one to follow instruction well. Besides, he always ends up by my side to save my sorry ass.

"Alright fellas, my friend here didn't mean nothing by what he said," Jeremy says in the calm yet assertive tone he has had mastered since I've known him. "Why don't you just let him off with a warning and I'll get his pretty face away from you."

I can see that the boy is about to argue, but after a moment he seems to think better of it. Jeremy's reputation is well known around the barracks. He's that nice, friendly guy that won't take shit from anyone no matter who they think they are. As far as I know he's never beat anyone up, I don't think he has to. Some way or another he's earned their respect. I wish I could say the same for myself.

Jeremy doesn't wait for them to reply, instead he puts his arm around my shoulder and leads me towards the door. I'm still hungry and for a second I think about asking him to let me go back in for a replacement tray. One look behind me at the clenched fists of the other boys makes me think better of it.

"Thanks man," I say just as he's leading me through the double doors out of the cafeteria.

He doesn't even have a chance to answer before a pair of hands clamps down on each of our shoulders. Both of are spun around to see at least four people in black uniforms, each of them with various foreign weapons cinched to their waist. One of them scans my wrist, takes one look at the scanner, and slaps a pair of handcuffs onto my wrists. Before I can say a single word I am turned away from Jeremy and told to walk.

"Hey!" I hear Jeremy call from behind me, followed by an electric buzz and a loud thump as something hits the floor. I'm too stunned to even try to turn around to see what happened.

* * *

 **Shaera Hanslok, 18, Sector G**

* * *

"They must have gotten the name wrong, Kylie," I insist, doing my best to keep my face neutral yet somewhat concerned. "There is no way I would have told anyone about Monty and Devin."

Kylie doesn't look to be buying a word of what I'm saying, facing me with her hands folded across her chest and a thin line where her lips should be. "Don't lie to me, Shaera. You're the only one that knows- well knew. Besides, Jule and Giana both told me they heard it from you."

"They must be lying to you," I shrug. In all honestly, Jule is lying to her. I only told Giana and a few other girls that I knew had connections with Monty or Devin. There was no point in telling Jule myself, shown by the fact that she probably heard from Giana within a couple hours.

"Shaera I trusted you," Kylie sighs and I can see tears forming in her eyes. I swallow thickly, I truthfully didn't expect Kylie to cry. She isn't the emotional type, or so I thought anyways. Mentally noted.

"Come on Ky, you're jumping to conclusions here." It's worth one more shot trying to reason with her. Kylie is one of my good friends and I'd hate to have her upset with me for very long, she's good company. "You have to have known that it was only a matter of time before they found out about each other. Crews talk, you know that."

She looks to be thinking about it, but I can tell by the expression on her face that she doesn't want to believe she caused this. The two main reasons that I decided to expose this little secret of hers were that it would cause a huge riff between the crews and it would be difficult for her to blame me for it. I guess I miscalculated a little bit on that second part.

For a second I think she is going to have another go at it, but instead she just sighs. "I just wanted the protection, neither of them ever should have found out about each other. I didn't even do anything wrong and now they're going after each other. I don't know how to stop it."

"I don't know either, Ky," I sigh, patting her shoulder sympathetically. "There really isn't anything you can do. Boys will be boys. It's probably best to just let them work it out themselves."

"They're going to kill each other," she whines, burying her face in her hands. Weird, I can't help but think to myself. I figured she didn't care about either of them to be so blatantly disloyal, staying at the different houses each night. So much for my perfect plan.

"They'll work it out I'm sure," I say and it's the last ounce of sympathy that I can force out of my lips. "I've got to go meet Teegan, but if you need to talk later you know where to find me."

Without waiting for a response I turn and walk towards the main barracks. Unlike me, Kylie doesn't have a permanent room in the building. She's illegitimate, a kid that was never registered by parents that left her on one of the shelves in the food stores. As far as the wardens are concerned, Kylie doesn't exist. That means no infraction system, no chance of being released at age twenty, and no boarding. She sleeps in the abandoned shops with the others and prays that she isn't caught by the Peacekeepers. If she were to be, well, I'd be beyond shocked if I ever saw her again.

I know that Teegan, my kid sister, won't be back from the mountain until late tonight so I decide to head up to our room to relax. We share a room with four other girls, three close to my age and the fourth a year older than Teegan. We used to have a family room, but that was taken away about a month after our mother went missing. After that long it could be assumed that she was never coming back, and almost four years later I kind of have to assume that as well.

I lift my wrist towards the guard that stands in front of the door and he waves his scanner over it. Normally it would have beeped three times and I would be let in, but this time I only hear a single low chime. The guard looks down at the screen, visibly just as confused as I am.

"It says for you to wait here," he says, pointing down to the screen. I furrow my brow, unsure of what to make of this situation. This has never happened before, I don't understand it.

He instructs me to stand to the side and wait while a couple more people enter the barracks. It has to have been a good five minutes or more before a woman comes out of the building, her full black attire nothing like the clothing that any of the people here would have.

It takes a moment to click, but the second it does instinct automatically takes over. I turn to run but before I can even take a step in the opposite direction the woman grabs my wrist and pulls me roughly towards her.

"Not so fast, Shaera," she chuckles, her strange accent making her words a bit more difficult to understand. Even my own name is nearly unrecognizable.

* * *

 **Everett Montclair, 15, Sector H**

* * *

Even after over a year of my worst nightmare coming true, I still find it hard to believe that a person like me could ever be this alone.

Back in District One I had more friends than I could have ever needed. Everyone loved me, and who could blame them? I was the fun-loving, excitement-filled kid that everyone wanted to be around. Hell, if I wasn't me I would have wanted nothing more than to be my best friend. Life was amazing back then, full of all the adventure and drama that comes with living on the wild side. I won't say it was perfect, but it was close. The worst thing that ever happened to me was the day I was taken away from all of that, wrenched from my dream life and thrown into this disgusting excuse of a district.

This isn't a place for someone like me. I'm nothing like any of these people, I'm far superior. They should be fighting to even have the privilege of being in my presence. Instead they're doing what only one person in my life has ever had the gall to do to me. They're ignoring me.

I drop the plastic fork on the table, but it bounces off and heads down towards the floor. I groan and don't even bother to pick it up. There is no way that I will subject myself to eating with something that has touched the cafeteria floor. I'd much rather eat with my hands, at least they're somewhat sanitary.

As much as I try to ignore it, there is no way to block out the chattering that seems to come from every inch of the cafeteria except the corner that I am seated in. Mostly there are families, but there are groups of mainly boys that always sit together to eat- the crews as I have recently learned. Everyone else keeps a close watch on them out of the corner of their eye, just in case something happens and they have to get out fast to avoid getting caught up in a tussle.

I envy each and every one of them.

If I was back in District One there would be no possible way that I would be sitting by myself. I would be surrounded with friends, dozens and dozens of them. People would be watching me, not a bunch of lowlife criminals that would be shunned from any other society. I hate being ignored. I hate being segregated from everyone else. I hate being here in a place where I so clearly don't deserve to be.

"You're in my seat, scum," I look up sheepishly from my half-empty tray to see a rather small man with another four standing behind him. I don't know his name but I recognize him, one of the lower ranking crew boys that is still trying to prove his toughness in any way he can find.

Without saying a word I pick up my tray and stand up. I head over to the trash bins and drop all of my uneaten food in, steaming with held-in anger the entire time. If I was looking to get the hell beat out of me I might have protested, but I'm not. I've never been a fighter and I know that I wouldn't stand a chance against the twenty plus guys that would come after me if I picked a fight with their friend.

I clench my fists as I head towards the door. I hate that I'm scared of these guys. There should be no good reason for me to be, after all back in One no one ever dared talk to me the way they just did. I had respect there but here I am nothing but a friendless coward to these people. Any day they could decide to end me and I wouldn't have any say in the matter. No one would stop them. I hate the vulnerability, I hate it all.

Just as I get about halfway through the room, the doors burst open. I stop dead in my tracks, both confused and curious as to why someone is making such an entrance. No one here does anything to draw attention to themselves, it's the way of the district.

Everything begins to make sense when I see three men in complete black attire and several devices strapped to their belts. They walk into the filthy cafeteria and their clean uniforms make it so obvious that they don't belong in here. I can't imagine that I could break through the tension that settles in the room even if I had a gun.

"There!" One of them exclaims, a black-gloved finger pointing straight towards me. A knot ties itself in my stomach and I know that it's not even an option to try and move at this point. The men get closer and I do nothing but stare, fear freezing my feet in place.

The tallest of the men turns me around and another slaps a pair of cold handcuffs onto my wrists, the feeling far too familiar to give me any comfort. The room is dead silent by now and I finally become aware of the feeling of a hundred pairs of eyes set directly on me. One of the men turns me back around and begins to lead me out of the cafeteria. Just as he stops to open the door I turn around and smile. I don't even care where they're bringing me, in this moment the only thing that matters is that all eyes are on me.

* * *

 **Alanis Marcham, 14, Sector H**

* * *

I don't think there has ever been a day in my life where I was more nervous that I am right now.

It's wrong, I know it's so so wrong to go and see Corin in the middle of the day, but the boy he sent to find me said that there would be no choice in the matter. That has to mean that it's urgent. Corin has never done this before. I mean, he's asked me to come earlier in the day but I've never been forced. He's always understood the reasons why I could only come during the night, when darkness could hide my face from anyone that might be looking.

For maybe the twentieth time since I left the barracks I consider turning around, making a loop around the shops to get rid of any suspicion and just going back to my room like nothing ever happened. Corin would be furious with me if I disrespected him like that. He's already told me time and time again that his boys had a pretty bad opinion of me. I'm not a member of his crew and yet I come in most nights for hours at a time. They don't like the fact that I can come and go as I please while still staying in Corin's good graces.

I should never have agreed to meet at his office. Everything worked so much better when we met outside, a different place for each day of the week. I trust Corin and I know that he would never do anything that might get me caught, but I can't trust his crew. There are far too many of them, and it only takes one stupid move before my clean record is ripped away. At this point I am truly walking through a mine field and hoping not to blow myself to pieces.

I do my best to keep my gaze neutral as I pass a group of girls that look to be a few years older than I am. Crew whores no doubt, but that's none of my business. I smile as I look inside one of the old buildings with its window filled with sweets and breads, just like any other girl might do upon passing. I know the routine backwards and forwards. Anyone looking at me would never have any reason to suspect that I have anything to hide.

I notice a pair of white clad Peacekeepers a few shops down from where I am and consider for a brief moment turning and heading the other way. Of course I don't, that would look suspicious and they might think about stopping me. The key to not raising any alarms is to pretend like there is nothing wrong with what you're doing. If you feel suspicious you'll look suspicious, it's child's play really.

Corin's place isn't more than five minutes away. It would be three if I cut through the alleys, but that's where people go when they're doing illegal things. The alleys are filled with cameras and I'm almost certain to find a Peackeeper of two lurking around there. No way am I taking that kind of chance to shave a minute or two off my route.

I recognize the buildings that I am approaching even though none of them have signs on them. They're where the low key operations happen. The bars, the crew houses, and the shops where you can get things that you otherwise wouldn't be able to find. I pick up my pace just a little bit. Even being in this area is suspicious looking, though I'm sure if I was questioned I could come up with some sort of legal excuse to why I'm snooping around.

I don't even let myself look at the half open window at the base of the building as I pass it. Aldo lives there, one of Corin's most loyal customers and probably one of the creepiest men I have ever come across in my life. His window pops out completely if you push in on it, and he always leaves his payment in a sac just on the inside of it. It's one of the easiest customers I have to deal with because I hardly ever see him in person. I just slip the drugs inside the sac, remove the coins, and pop the window back into place. I've only been seen once when I was about nine or so, but I just explained to the lady that I had dropped my hair tie and was trying to find it.

"Hey, stop right there!"

I freeze when I hear footsteps behind me followed by a man's voice. My breath catches in my throat but I remind myself that he's probably talking to someone else and that turning around would look suspicious. I keep walking, focusing on keeping my pace steady and my eyes absently wandering.

"You! Stop!"

This time the man is noticeably closer and I decide that it's probably a good idea to turn around. As soon as I do I meet the man's eyes, which are looking straight at me. I freeze, unsure of what to do. I could run, though I've never been the most athletic and I probably wouldn't make it far. Besides, this could be some big misunderstanding and running will make it look like I did something wrong.

As the man gets closer I see that his uniform is almost identical to that of a Peacekeeper but instead of all white his is black. Behind him, the pair of Peacekeepers I passed are galloping to catch up. The man reaches me and points a small, black metal device right at me.

"Turn around. No sudden movements, I've been instructed to use force as necessary."

I slowly turn around, my entire body trembling so hard that I feel like I might not have the control necessary to stay on my feet. I feel something cold and hard slap against both wrists and I can't help but flinch. I want to ask what is going on, but it's as if my voice has been stopped by the lump in my throat. I know that any innocent person would protest, insist that they have the wrong person or something. I'm not sure it would do any good for me, though. This doesn't seem like any kind of misunderstanding, this man looks like knows exactly what he is doing.

* * *

 **A/N: And I am back, well for a bit. Life has been hectic once again and continues to be so, but I was recently reminded how much I really love this universe that I created after getting some late reviews. I do not want to quit this story and I hope that it never has to come to that. I love this story, these characters, and all of the arcs and plots that I have already planned.**

 **A huge thank you to everyone that is still reading and an even bigger thank you to those that continue to review. Honestly, the reviews I recently got really helped to get me back into the story so there is a lot of value in reviews. Maybe even quicker updates?**

 **Speaking of reviews, they would be great if you find the time!**

 _ **Who are your favourites of these four?**_

 _ **Do you have any alliance predictions so far? Plot predictions?**_

* * *

 **I do have exams coming up very soon, so I can't promise an update will come for the next little while. As usual I will have to see how things go, but I will do my best. There is only one more introduction chapter and then we get to dive right into the interactions, the new Capitol chapters I've laid out, and the beginnings of major plots. Very exciting stuff, stay tuned!**


	8. Nothing You Can Do

" _Sometimes there's nothing you can do. [...] Sometimes they don't have enough to fight with."_ _  
_ _―_ _Tamora Pierce_ _,_ _Briar's Book_

* * *

 **Alastair Caine, 17, Sector I**

* * *

I hear a noise from behind me and I spin around, nearly sending myself straight off the roof. There doesn't look to be anyone there and rather than choose to go looking for trouble I just assume that it was nothing. It's better to think the best, at least I think so. I'd hate to have to relocate again. This spot is by far one of the most beautiful and peaceful that I have ever been able to find.

I look around for a moment. The last time I really took a look around the sun had just set and everything was coated in a thick layer of darkness. Now the sun is already halfway up in the sky and I can't help but wonder how long I've been out here for. Mother might be worried but I doubt it. At this point she is used to me not coming in for the night once in a while. She knows I like it better outside.

Breathing a deep sigh I take another look around. It's only been about a week since I first found this place, but I feel like I've been coming here for ages. Even the discomfort of flaking paint and loose roof tiles under me can't put a dent in the relaxation that the view brings me. I've sought out solitary places since I could walk, but it was only a few years ago that I found the beauty that can only be seen from heights.

From the top of the three story building, abandoned as far as I know or inhabited by someone who doesn't like to go out, I can see everything. If I look behind me I can gaze over Sector I, the barracks tiny from this distance away. To my left and right I can see the other sectors and the fences that separate us. The best view by far, however is the one I get by simply looking straight ahead.

Past fences, past the mountain and the processing plant, and past even more fences I can see the world. The rest of Panem, or at least a small part of it. For the most part I can see stretches of forest and even the tips of mountains that must be hundreds of miles away. Unless you look past the forest on the right hand side, so far off in the distance that you have to squint to see it, is somewhere else. Another district maybe? The Capitol? I have no idea, the few lessons that I had never told me.

All I know is that it's another life, where other people live. People that aren't trapped in District Zero like I am. I don't know who they are or what their lives are like, but I like to imagine that they're from District One- the favourite of the Capitol since the beginning of Panem. I imagine all of them as beautiful, with light hair and coloured eyes. They do things for fun and live in beautiful rooms that they don't have to share with anyone else. They can travel to other districts and even to the Capitol.

They have everything I have dreamed of having, and they have it outside of the confines of electrified fences and endless supervision.

They're something. A district with a number, with substance and with something in it to live for. Not zero, not like the nothing I live in. District Zero, the district of nothings and no ones. What I wouldn't give to be a One, or even a Nine. Anything but a Zero. Anything but a nothing.

I just want to be something.

I don't want to end up like my mother. I don't want to give up on my life and subject myself to the unhappiness around me. I can still have a life, I just know it's possible. There has to be something I can do to get out of here. I don't want to give up on being happy, even if I just have to pretend I am. I'm not ready to be like everyone else. I'm not ready to be miserable.

"Alastair Caine, Sector I, ID number 2390751, report immediately to the nearest official."

I swallow thickly. Hearing my name on the intercom is never a good thing. It usually means that I have a meeting with the wardens and another infraction on my record. As far as I know I haven't done anything worth notice from the wardens. Hell I've been sitting up here for the majority of the week. I have no idea what they want, but I'm definitely not about to keep them waiting. I'm not totally sure but I'd guess they wouldn't like that very much.

I scramble down the rickety ladder and take to the nearest alleyway. It isn't more than a few minutes before I reach a busier street. I look both ways but I don't see any Peacekeepers.

"Alastair?"

When I hear my name I turn around to see a somewhat familiar looking man with a long beard and filthy clothes. He must be a friend of my mother's or something, that's really the only way that people seem to get my name. I've never been one for making friends.

"Oh it is you, thank goodness," the man breathes, looking around quickly before leaning in close to my ear. "You have to get away, they're looking for you."

"What do you-" I begin to ask but I am cut off by a much louder voice coming from a few feet away.

"I'll take it from here Gilligan." In two long steps the Peacekeeper is standing directly beside me, having come from a nearby alley. He puts a hand on my shoulder and turns me around towards the barracks. I begin to ask where we're going, but I can't seem to get the words out. What was Gilligan trying to tell me? Where are they taking me? And why?

* * *

 **Demetra Van Sant, 16, Sector I**

* * *

My hands are still trembling by the time I wake up. The fright of last night still hasn't worn off and I can't help but be irritated by it. I am about to wipe at the sleep in my eyes when I see my grandfather look over from his cot. I immediately clench my hands into tight fists, willing them to stop before he sees me shaking through the sheets.

"Morning, Demetra," he says softly, nodding at me before returning to his book. It's the same one he used to teach me how to read, and the only one I have ever fully read. I know that he must have each page memorized by now but I suppose he doesn't have anything else to do. I wish I could bring him something else to read, but that would make him worry about how I got it. It's better he not have to worry about where I'm off to during the day, for both of us.

"Morning," I whisper, though I can still clearly hear the crack in my voice. I yawn to cover it, and I don't think he noticed. I'm glad, I'd hate to have to explain what's got me so rattled this morning. If he knew about what those boys did to me last night I'm not sure what he would do. Lock me in this room forever probably, definitely go find them and 'teach them a lesson'.

There is no point in getting him involved. That was my battle to fight last night and, even if it doesn't make it much better, I knew it was coming the second I picked a fight with my now ex-crew leader. I spent almost two years with Hunt and the rest of them, but there was no way that I was going to let them get away with what they tried to do to Garth. No one hurts the kid, they had to have known I would bite back.

So now I'm without a crew and without any more protection than my own fists can offer me. It'll make life a bit more complicated, but it's nothing I haven't done before. I'm tough and I have always been. There are only two things that matter to me and those are Garth and my own well being. Anyone that gets in the way of either of those things is going to have to deal with me, and that should definitely scare them. I wasn't recruited into Hunt's crew for nothing after all.

I get up a few minutes later and pull on a t-shirt and a pair of thick pants that are just a couple inches too short. New clothes are not something that I have ever found to be necessary, and there is no point in spending extra money on them when I will be issued a new outfit in a few months anyway. Anyone under eighteen gets new clothes once a year, and every three years after that. I don't see anything beyond that as being necessary.

"I'm going out," I say as I throw my bag over my shoulder and rush through the door. Garth should be waiting for me in his room like I told him yesterday and I hate to keep him waiting, it's past eleven o'clock as it is. Just before I close the door behind me I think I hear my grandfather say something, but I'm in too much of a hurry to turn back and find out if it was important.

I have to go up two flights of stairs before I reach the floor where Garth lives with his mother and two older siblings. Despite having double the amount of people, their room is no bigger than ours and simply contains two double cots instead of two singles. I knock twice on the door and Garth opens it a few seconds later. He's smiling and already has his bag with him ready to go. I cringe slightly when I notice the dark bruise under his eye, but I know not to ask about it here.

We get almost down to the main floor before I decide we're far enough to ask about it. He tells me that he fell against the door and hit the knob, but I can tell he doesn't expect me to believe that answer. We stop at the cafeteria and I ask for a cup of cold water and a lid. It doesn't help much but I can see the relief on his face when he puts it against his cheek. Hopefully it will at least do something to soften the look of it.

Garth is at least a head shorter than me and five years younger. Maybe if we looked alike people would think we were siblings, but Garth's dark skin and hair against my blonde hair and fair skin doesn't exactly make us look like twins. Regardless of any of that, however, Garth is exactly like the little brother I never had. Him and I are stark opposites and somehow it works. I show him how to protect himself and in return he shows me how to relax and just be around him without looking for a fight. I think it's a beneficial friendship all around.

As soon as we exit through the doors of the cafeteria we both see them. My lips part open and I hear Garth's cup thud against the ground, spilling water all over the bottom of our shoes. Neither of us is able to peel our eyes off of the three black-clad people in front of us to even step out of the puddle. My entire body feels frozen except for my hands, which have once again started trembling.

"We're going to have to ask you to come with us," the closest one to us says in an oddly kind, feminine voice.

It is Garth that is first able to find his words as I stand frozen, my body stilled by the three icy stares. "But why? What is going on?"

"Just the girl," the woman says. "You may go."

"N-no," Garth says, looking at me for a brief second with terror strewn across his face. He brings both his fists up in front of him, something I have never seen him do unless I was telling him to. Is it possible that he thinks he can defend me? Against recons? "I-I won't let y-you take her."

The woman nods to the man on her right and he steps forward, pushing Garth against the wall by his shoulders. The woman and the second man grab for my wrists, and I am still too shocked to do anything. I have never seen a recon up close, I wasn't even completely sure that they existed until this moment. And now, they're here for me.

* * *

 **Topher Darosa, 12, Sector J**

* * *

"It won't happen again," I whisper, unable to look at the boy with his hand pressing my cheek against the wall. With the edge of his palm he puts more on more pressure, quickly bashing my nose against the concrete and grinding my skin even harder against it. I hear a crack and I think there might be blood but I can't be sure, it could be just be that I'm crying.

"Sure as hell it won't, scum," the boy hisses, slamming his other hand hard against the back of my head. His fingertips rake against my scalp, grabbing a handful of my brown curls and pulling hard enough to force my head back. Now that I am able to face him I wish I wasn't. The hateful look in his eyes is more painful than having my head bashed into the concrete.

"If I ever see your face around here again I'll kill you," he says, his face barely two inches from mine. I swallow thickly, nodding my head several times to let him know that I understand. In no way do I think he has any intention of not carrying out his threats. I won't bother him ever again and that is for certain.

He slams my head into the wall one last time, releasing his hold on me so that I slump to the ground in front of him. He spits in my general direction before taking off, back towards his friends no doubt to tell them that he got rid of the rat that's been snooping around their turf. I rub my face and sure enough my hand comes away bloody, hopefully not a broken nose but I wouldn't be all that surprised.

Before anyone else can come and have a crack at me I force myself to my feet and begin to make my way back to the barracks. It's hardly mid afternoon, but I'm done for the day. Maybe mother will be a bit upset with me but I can't stay out here one more minute if I want to keep myself in one, or maybe two, pieces. The way I am now I'm sure to be an easy target for people looking to mug or just beat the living shit out of someone. The fact that everything I had has already been taken from me probably wouldn't mean much either.

It takes me a few minutes to get back, being careful not to take anything but the main routes. There is no one at the entrance, which isn't too uncommon really, so I let myself in and make my way upstairs. The room that I share with my mother is on the third floor and I am out of breath by the time I reach the top. I consider going to get food from the cafeteria before going inside but one glance at the clock in the hallway tells me that it's already past breakfast hours. I guess I'll have to wait until lunch for it to open again.

I open the door as softly as I can, half-hoping that mother will still be asleep while at the same time knowing that she won't be. Sure enough, as soon as I enter the room she is right there reaching over me to lock the door before I'm even completely inside.

"You're early," she says quickly, rubbing her arms vigorously over her long sleeves. "I thought it was someone else."

I don't even have to ask who she thought it was. My father and her husband of nearly ten years, who was the main reason that we ended up here in the first place, also lives in District Zero though I've never seen him. He was sent here when I was five on several charges of abuse and attempted double-murder of my mother and I. I only vaguely recall any of it, but my mother hasn't forgotten a single word he said to us nor a single thing he did.

When we were sent here less than a year later, after my mother was found guilty of stealing from one of the wealthier families in District Five, she was terrified. They never gave her any information about my father, whether he was alive or even if he lived in our sector. She rarely if at all leaves our room out of fear that he will find out that she is here. She even hates that I leave, but rationalizes that he wouldn't likely recognize me anymore. Even so it's built in me now to look over my shoulder with every step.

"Where were you?" She asks, rubbing at the red spot on her neck. "Did you find anyone?"

"No," I say honestly. Every day I go out looking for something that mother asks for. It changes every day but most often she asks me to find out where my father is, or find a crew that will take me in. Sometimes it's something else entirely like finding a hole or a weak point in the fence. I never know what it will be, and I almost never find what she wants but she insists on me going every morning. It's much better than when she made me stay inside all day with her, but I just wish I could tell her how pointless these missions are. She doesn't seem to understand.

"Tomorrow," she says, continuing to rub at her neck as she turns and looks behind her. The room is dark because she used our pillows to block the windows, and her pale skin nearly glows in the darkness.

I jump when I hear a knocking on the door. My mother's eyes get wide and she yells at me not to answer it, running to take cover behind her bed. I don't move, and when the knocking becomes more and more insistent I begin to get nervous. Neither of us know many people in District Zero, and certainly no one that would know where we live or come looking for us.

Finally my questions are answered when I hear a deep voice yell from behind the door. "Topher Darosa, we know you're in there. Come out immediately."

My entire body stiffens and I see my mother peer out from above the bed.

"It's not dad," I whisper, but the realization doesn't seem to calm either of our nerves. I take one slow step towards the door, telling myself that I have no choice but to open it. Before I can get that far, however, the door opens revealing two men in full black uniforms.

* * *

 **Blair Myles, 18, Sector J**

* * *

By the time Fiona slams the door behind her to leave for the day it's already well past noon. Usually the other girls wake up later than I do, but today seemed to be exceptionally excruciating to wait for them t leave. I refuse to make nice with any of them, I refuse to even try. I do not move in the morning until I know that each one of them is gone, and I ensure that I am always the last one to come in at night. None of them have made an effort of speaking to me either, so no one could even say it's totally my fault.

I sit straight upright on my cot, stretching out the kinks in my neck and back from sleeping on the thin mat. It's nothing like my bed back home- no matter what anyone says I refuse to call this place my home. I had my own room back in District Two, across the hall from my little sister and below my parents. Small but probably not much smaller than the room I'm in now. The walls are concrete and there is one small window at the top of the far wall. This place has no right to call itself a home for anybody.

It's been almost three months since the day I was sent here. Before I got on the morning train into District Zero I spent the night in a holding cell with plenty of time to think about the events that brought me there. Even with this much time to reflect on it I still come to the same conclusion as I did that night. I should never have been arrested.

I was angry, not an unusual feeling for me, and left the house after one of my parent's last ditch efforts to get me to talk to them. Since long before I can remember it's been the same routine. I was an angry child, an even angrier teen, and my parents always wanted to know why. I don't think it ever occurred to them that if I knew why I would have stopped it. I didn't just wake up one day and decide to yell and scream and make them miserable. If I could have grown up perfect like my little sister I damn well would have.

Long story short I punched through a shop window and got in a bit of a tussle with a Peacekeeper after he tried to go after me. I won't say that I should have been completely off the hook, from what I heard the guy was in pretty bad shape afterwards, but I should not have been deported. Deportation to District Zero is the strictest punishment besides the death penalty, made for criminals that are considered too dangerous to keep in society. I was an angry teenager, a little bit of a handful even, but I was not a bad person. No one who really knew me could claim that.

Yet here I am three months later, none of my efforts to have them revaluate my case having worked. Trapped in a place that no one like me has any business being. There's nothing else I can get my mind to concentrate on. The fact that I am going to be forever locked in the garbage district for such a stupid mistake continues to weigh on me. I know that I shouldn't be here with these serial criminals and there is nothing I can do about it. Not until somebody realizes that I don't belong in here.

I sure hope that will happen soon. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.

Most days I busy myself with scavenging at the mountain, the giant pile of trash that the local have given that affectionate name to. Other days, like today, I simply stay in my room and stare at the walls hoping for someone to burst through the door and take me home. Someday it'll happen, I'm sure of it. I just wish it would happen today.

I jump at the sound of someone knocking on the door. I wonder who it could be? Most likely Fiona's boyfriend looking for her or one of the other girls' friends. I consider simply not opening the door, but truth be told I crave talking to people sometimes, even if it has to be people from here.

I rush to the door before they leave, pulling open the door so quickly that I nearly hit myself in the knee. The first thing I see is the shoes, far too shiny and bulky to belong to anyone from around here. My brow furrows as my eyes move up their body, seeing almost nothing but black until I get to the man's pale face. Behind him is another man dressed identically to him, his face even paler than the first man's. I get the sudden urge to close the door, but their cold eyes staring at me keep me almost in some kind of trance.

"We're looking for Blair Myles," the first man says simply, his expression unchanging. The pair make me uneasy, but it seems silly to lie to them. They are clearly some kind of authority here, and like in District Two people in authority have ways of finding what they're looking for.

"That would be me," I say, swallowing thickly. I look at the ground for a moment, then back up at their unmoving expressions. I'm unsure which is more uncomfortable.

"Step outside, close the door behind you," the man says, his tone much sharper now. "Do not make any sudden movements Miss Myles. I am fully equipped to stop you if you try and run."

"I-I." Words don't seem to want to come. I take a step out of my room and grab clumsily behind me for the knob, finding it several seconds later. "W-what's this about? I-I know m-my rights."

This statement earns a chuckle from the two men. "Just follow my orders, doll. You'll be informed about all of that in due time."

* * *

 **A/N: I did say I would try and be better didn't I? I'm unsure what got into me, but I began writing and suddenly I was three quarters done. Maybe it was the prospect that after this I finally get to move on to the more interesting parts? Who knows but I hope y'all appreciate it.**

 **Reviews are still rather lacking, but I am staying positive and telling myself that they're going to pick up once we get to the more interesting parts. I will continue holding onto hope until proven otherwise... Please don't prove me otherwise thanks.**

 _ **Who are your favourites out of these four?**_

 _ **Who are your overall favourites now that you've seen everyone?**_

* * *

 **Starting next chapter we really get to dive into the new Panem, since for the most part we've only explored District Zero. We also get to finally see where our little tributes have been staying as they're getting rounded up, as well as introduce them to what is in store for them. Yes, they finally find out about the Hunger Games which hopefully you have noticed that they know nothing about. I'm very excited about this and hopefully you're all eager to see it as well! Until next time.**


	9. Don't Let Them See

" _Don't be scared. Don't let them see._ "  
― Alexandra Bracken, _The Darkest Minds_

* * *

 **Train Rides**

* * *

 **Decker Vanes, 15, Sector F Male**

* * *

I wake up with a groan, wondering first why every inch of me seems to hurt and second what could have possibly woken me up when it's still so obviously dark outside.

The brief moment of confusion fades, breaking apart completely when a sliver of light on my face becomes larger and larger stretching across the wall behind me. Then the familiar sound of footsteps echoes in my ears and I jump to my feet, much to my sore body's protest. There is now no mistaking where I have awoken.

"Hey!" I yell, banging both fists into the thick bars in front of me. "I'm in here! Help I'm in here, I'm trapped!"

"Recons!" I hear a female voice hiss, loud enough that her voice echoes off of the cement walls.

A sense of dread fills my throat. Of course, how stupid of me to think that it was someone coming to help me. I have seen no one except for the many different recon men and women since they took me away from the mountain. I was brought immediately into a stairwell that I had never been down, had never even known existed, and then blindfolded for the remainder of the walk. I have to believe that I am underneath the barracks, but beyond that I can't even begin to guess where I am or why.

I swallow thickly, sinking back down to the floor of the small cell as the realization hits me once again that I am trapped here. I am not even sure how long it has been since I was brought here, but it must have been at least a couple of days. I have not eaten or drank anything, there has been nothing brought to me. the only thing I have is a bucket in the corner that smells of the bath houses, which I am embarrassed to say I have had to relieve myself in.

A beam of light appears on the wall opposite from me, the only one that is unreachable to me through the bars. As it shrinks I hold my breath, counting backwards from five once, twice, and nearly a third time before the figure finally appears. It is a woman this time, I think last time it was a man. Or maybe I am thinking of the time before that. I have been used to hunger, or so I thought, but never have I felt its effects so deeply as now. The act of simply getting to my feet earlier seems to have drained me of everything I had left.

The woman comes close to the bars and I can't help but press the back of my head harder into the cement wall behind me. She looks strange to me. Her teeth are too white and her face is too smooth, almost like someone has taken sandpaper to it. For a moment she only looks at me and I at her. It is so quiet now that I can hear the girl, the only kind voice I have heard since being left here, breathing unevenly.

"Is it time Julian?," the woman says finally, speaking to someone else even as she looks in at me. From somewhere nearby I hear a man grunt in response. The woman reaches into one of the many pockets in her vest and produces a small button bag. Even when I squint my eyes I cannot tell what the small white dot inside it is supposed to be.

She reaches her hand, still holding the bag, through the bars towards me. I press myself further into the wall. I want to yell at her and tell her to get away from me, but remembering the threats that were spat into my ears as I was brought here I remain silent. Recons have a feared reputation around Zero, I don't want to do anything they might take as a reason to hurt me further.

"Take this," she urges, waving the bag between two fingers. I hesitate but do as she asks, taking the bag from her and placing it on the ground in front of me.

The woman sighs. "No, no. Open the bag and eat it. Don't be frightened."

I look down at the bag but make no move to pick it up again. I jump when I hear the man's footsteps begin again, this time coming quickly toward me. He mutters something I don't catch and appears seconds later beside the woman. Though his voice certainly sounds more frightening, I am surprised to see how small he is. He's probably no taller than I am, though twice as wide at least.

"The girl is out, Herald wasn't kidding when he said this new stuff works fast."

My eyes widen and I once again glance down that bag. The girl, the one I've been whispering too at odd times in the night, must have taken it. What does he mean by out? Knocked out? That's awful, but how would something this small knock someone out?

"Why hasn't he had his?" The man says pointing with his chin towards me. The woman bows her head slightly but says nothing. "Etta, I've told you it doesn't hurt them. We have to get them out of here, the train leaves in an hour."

"I know," she says, her voice hardly above a whisper. She points to the bag that still sits at my feet. "Don't make me tell you again."

It's difficult to feel threatened by her after seeing that man talk so harshly to her, but I pick up the bag anyways. I have no idea what any of this means- the train, being 'out'- but I've heard enough to convince me to take it. The man said it wouldn't hurt me and that I'm getting out of here and I guess that has just got to be enough for me at this point.

* * *

 **Topher Darosa, 12, Sector J Male**

* * *

It is the aching of my skull that brings me out of the deep sleep. It takes me several moments before I allow myself to open my eyes, my head still suffocating in its fogginess.

Wherever I am, it's very dark. I remember the little room that I was kept in for the night but quickly I understand that that is not where I am. The smell is different, much cleaner. It no longer smells like the wash house. Instead it reminds me a bit of the processing plant with its strangely clean smell. I don't know what it's called but it feels foreign in my nose.

I lift my head and am rewarded with a sharp pain coming from inside my skull. I shut my eyes forcefully and attempt to feel around the floor and walls to work my way up into a sitting position. At least it's dark in here, I'm not sure I would be able to handle even the dim glow of the light in my room right now. Even this feels like too much.

I become suddenly aware of the sound of breathing coming from beside me and my eyes fly open within seconds. Sure enough, beside me is an older girl who appears to be asleep. I don't recognize her, but the sound of her breathing is somewhat familiar to me. I think back to the sobbing I heard last night and I begin to wonder if maybe they came from her.

I feel awful waking her so I choose not to, instead taking the opportunity to get some idea of where I am. This room is small, albeit almost twice as large as the one I was put in last night, with walls made of dark wood and a floor made of something solid like metal but not quite as cold. There are no windows and I soon realize that the dim light I am able to see by is coming from the crack under a nearby door. I don't even have to check to understand that it will be locked, but I do get up to have a go at it anyways.

Yes, definitely locked.

I hear a gasp from behind me and I flinch, spinning around quickly to see that the girl has woken up. She squints her eyes several times, appearing to be going through the same kind of sharp pain I woke up with, before she turns to me. Her eyes immediately narrow.

"You," she breathes. "Is it you?"

I don't know what to say. It reminds me of the mornings when I would wake up and mother would tell me of her plans for my day. I hardly understood anything of what she said, other than the fact that it was very important to her. Now I can see the same kind of thing in this girl. I don't know what she means or what she expects me to say, but I can tell that whatever it is has her very worked up.

Suddenly the scowl disappears and a cheeky smile replaces it. She turns away from me for a moment, as if speaking to herself. Mother used to do that sometimes too, but it was never with a grin on her face. "Of course it wasn't. You're much too tiny."

I wince even though her words were probably never meant as an insult. They probably weren't even meant for me to hear. I swallow any response I might have made. It's probably best that way.

She turns back to me again, the smile gone but no sign of distaste towards me either. "Two questions. Who the hell are you, and where the hell are we?"

I bite the bottom of my lip. She looks calm enough, but I also know not to let myself be too influenced by the way people choose to appear. I've come home to mother humming happy tunes to herself only to throw pieces of window trim at me the second I walked in the door. A smile and a frown could mean the same thing and I have to be careful.

"I'm Topher," I say quietly. "Sorry but I don't know where we are, Miss."

She raises an eyebrow at my statement and my body tenses. Somehow she sees that too. "I'm not going to hit you, geez. Ain't nothing here to hit you with anyway."

I think she's joking so I tell myself to laugh. It comes out forced and I'm sure she noticed that too.

"I'm Blair," she continues. "That door doesn't look too thick, have you tried breaking it? Of course you haven't. You'd not make a dent anyway with your size."

I don't even have time to brush off the slight insult as some sort of strange crackling sound fills the air around us. Both Blair and I tilt our heads up towards the ceiling looking for wherever the sound is coming from, but I don't see anything out of the ordinary except a bunch of holes near the corner that look like they've been dug by awfully talented beetles.

"Welcome," a deep voice says, suddenly emerging from the noise with enough force that I am able to feel it in my gut. I look around for a face to put to the voice but I see none. "You may wonder who I am, and so I will state it simply. I am the Game Master. The controller of the game that you are all soon to enter. I have brought each of you here for one of several reasons, or perhaps simply by pure chance, to participate in an event that has a nearly three hundred year history in Panem.

The Hunger Games is a battle, an honourable sport of sorts stemming from an era long ago that sought to test the limits of humanity as we know it. If you choose to play the game and win, you will be rewarded generously for your courage earning freedom for yourself. Yes, those who are victorious will gain the ultimate prize, the opportunity to restart your lives in any district in Panem. As long as you play by my rules this wonderful prize may be yours to take.

The rules are quite simple. A few days from now the twenty of you will be placed in an arena alongside three of the Capitol's finest warriors. During these days you will all have many opportunities to win and there are two ways to do so. The first is to eliminate one of the Capitol Gladiators. The second, to be the last one remaining in the arena. Simple, no?

I'm sure that some of you may be sceptical. Some may even wish to forgo their participation altogether. However the rules are not that simple. Every one of you will have to enter the arena regardless. Should you choose not to play at that time it is your decision. I should warn you, though, that the price of losing is not one to be taken lightly.

Now there is quite a bit more to this game of ours, but that will be explained to you at a later time. For now, simply sit back and enjoy the journey. Rest, perhaps make acquaintance with your roommate, and most importantly prepare ourselves for the days to come. May the odds be forever in your favour, tributes."

* * *

 **Eloise Bailey, 15, Sector E Female**

* * *

The voice disappears in the same crackling noise in which it came, leaving the two of us in stunned silence as our brains try to process what we have just listened to.

Immediately I decide that this must be some sort of cruel joke. There is no way that this could be real, could it? As I think about it longer I begin to think that it just could be. The idea is impossible- killing until only one survives? That seems more like the things of nightmares that I outgrew in my much younger years, not something that could actually happen. Yet nobody that we have come in contact with seems to be showing this off as a joke.

No, if this is some sort of elaborate prank then it is a very convincing one. I turn to myself, looking for clues that my body might know that this isn't real. The signs that I see aren't very assuring. My entire body is trembling, and not just from the slight humid breeze coming from one side of the train car. My chest is pounding and my head is light and spinning out of control.

As I continue to look for any reassurance that might tell me if this is really happening to me, my body continues to get more and more frantic. A few moments later and I lose it. My vision blackens for just a second, enough to cause my fear to spike. I begin to sob loudly despite myself. Something that I have never done except in very private moments.

"A-are you alright?" I hear the boy, Klay, stutter. I had nearly forgotten that he was even here, and now I am even more embarrassed. Still I am unable to get control enough to even speak and my response ends up simply being a loud gasping noise.

"Uh, okay, um," he says and slides over to sit in front of me. He reaches his hands out for a moment as if to touch me, but they stop midair as he thinks better of it. Even in the midst of this sobbing attack, which has in fact begun to lessen, I can see the opportunity as clear as if he had simply told me himself.

The conflict in his eyes is clear. He wants to comfort me, a strange girl who he has only just met moments ago, and yet something stops him. I'm not positive at first for what reasons but I know that I have to jump at this chance. I'll figure out what to do with it later, but I have to shove away whatever is stopping him from helping me wholeheartedly.

Swallowing all of my own inhibitions I heave myself forward into the boy's arms. He stiffens for just a moment before he slowly brings his arms around my back, rubbing the thin fabric of my shirt comfortingly. Pleasantly surprised by how easily he was able to take to me, I bury my face in his shoulder and wrap my arms around his neck.

The true fright of the situation dissolves in moments as my mind becomes occupied by the new task. It's not something that is entirely new to me and the familiarity of it is almost enough to be comforting in itself. It is an easy trick, one that is natural for my size and age, that I used many times on both my brother and Ihsan in the past. While the two of them are clever, they used to be no match to my tears and clinging. As I have grown older the effect has worn off and both of them have stopped being quite so susceptible to the act.

Klay, however, doesn't stand a chance.

"It's okay, um, Eloise," he stammers, still uncomfortable but falling for the act better than I could have hoped. "Don't cry, everything's going to be fine."

I pry myself off of him, purposely not wiping the tears from my cheeks. "That isn't true is it? What they just said. I want to go home."

"Me too," he breathes. "And I don't know, but maybe not. I hope not."

Now that he isn't quite so surprised by both the announcement and my behaviour, I can see that Klay actually shows very little resemblance to Isaac. It is even a stretch to compare him to Ihsan. Klay is much more controlled in his speech and movements, oddly so in fact. Seeing him any other situation I'm not sure I could have expected him to act as compassionately as he is right now. I find it strange that he comforted me at all, but I'm confident that the connection has been paved now.

If I need someone, for whatever reason, it can be him. He can be my Kalea in the Capitol, a bodyguard of sorts if I'm lucky enough to be able to further cement this connection. I think back to how Isaac and Ihsan recruited Kalea in the first place. From there my strategy pretty much forms itself.

Whatever the Capitol has in store for me I will be ready, I decide. If that means putting someone else between myself and death then that is a sacrifice I am _very_ willing to make.

* * *

 **Leighton Shaller, 18, Sector C Female**

* * *

It has been several hours since the voice last spoke to us, informing us that food would be coming after we had arrived in the Capitol. Still, I don't think there has been nearly enough time to really process all that we've been told or the creepy man that it was told to us by.

I refuse to break down no matter what I'm told. It's simply not in my nature, and especially not with the scum of a person that I'd nearly had killed now sitting beside me. The boy is disrespectful, no better than the boys in my crew. Hell I should have had him killed. Roy would have been furious, but what does that matter. I'm not there to hear his bitching anyway.

"Do you always look so pissed?"

I turn towards the boy and I have to hold myself back from simply lunging at him. It's something about that smug look on his face that rubs me the wrong way, especially after his comment a few days ago. He has nerve to try and have a go at me, but nerve and stupidity go hand in hand more often than not. I was assured that he'd be dealt with, but it would have made me feel a hell of a lot better if I had gotten to go kick his sorry ass myself. There is no pride in hiding behind bigger members, even if it wasn't my choice to do it.

"Do you always sound so stupid?" I retort. This is the closest thing to a conversation that we have had in the many hours since we woke up in this tiny train car. After we each realized who the other was we both separated to opposite corners and entertained ourselves.

"Yes, actually," he smiles. I clench my fists, the guy definitely has nerves and they're going to get him a good old punch in the lip if he doesn't learn to shut his trap. Roy has told me again and again that I need to control myself better, but Roy ain't here and this guy is asking for black eye.

"Good to know," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Ah come on, you're not still mad are you?" He laughs and I can feel my face heating up. Who the hell does he think he is talking to me as if I'm ten years old? "I didn't mean what I said I was being funny."

"It was hilarious," I say flatly. I have no interest in talking to this guy, but the hours of silence are wearing on me. I hate to say that I am starting to genuinely believe he isn't such an awful guy to talk to. I guess if things do go south I at least know I'd clock him in a fight. His skinny arms wouldn't even leave a dent.

"Look," he says, swinging his legs around so that he is facing me more directly. "I'm not one to apologize and I'd really rather not. I can't stand sitting just sitting here thinking about what that wacky man said and I'd also like some sort of assurance that you're not going to try and kick my ass if I turn around for a second. We're both from C right and we both look pretty tough. Would you be willing to try and make this work?"

I can't help but laugh as I listen to his long-winded speech. His eyebrows raise in surprise as my giggles escape from behind my hand, filling the train car with something other than silence.

"Okay rude," he says, putting both hands up in front of him defensively.

A few moments later I am finally am able to collect myself enough to speak. "If we're going to try and make nice I need you to realize a couple of things. First, I am never going to promise that I'm not going to kick your ass if I need to. Second, there is absolutely no one alive that would think for a second that you look tough."

He opens his mouth dramatically and puts a hand on his hip. I have to put my hand back over my mouth to keep from laughing again. "Double rude, but okay I can deal with those."

"Good," I shrug. "There really wasn't a compromise anyway."

"Ingo," he says after another dramatic huff. He extends his hand out in a large sweeping motion. "Ingo Arvallian at your service, m'lady."

"Leighton Shaller," I say, backing myself up further against the wall to avoid his hand. "One more thing, you will not ever call me that again."

"Fair," he says with a shrug. "How about Lei?"

"Leighton is fine, thanks."

He smiles, and this time the smugness doesn't bother me near as much. "Leighton it is. And you may call me King of Sector C, or Ingo if you prefer."

"I prefer," I say with a nod.

Suddenly light fills the room as the door swings open. It takes me a while before my eyes are able to adjust enough to see what is in front of me, but before I get the chance I am being lifted by my waist and pulled further into the brightness. I hear Ingo protesting behind me but I get too far ahead to be able to make out what he is saying.

The cold breeze hits me like a slap in the face and I realize that we are outside. Not only that, but it is night time and we are in some sort of terminal. I blink a few times to force my eyes to adjust faster, and seconds before the breeze is cut off from my skin I catch sight of a hanging banner.

I don't even have to look closely at it to recognize it as the gold banner of the Capitol. I haven't seen it in almost thirteen years and yet I can picture it so clearly in my mind when I think about it. The last thing I saw when I was loaded onto a train with my father and taken to District Zero. All of the words of the Game Master and the Hunger Games drips out of my ears and all I can think in the moments that follow is that I've finally made it back home.

* * *

 **Seneca Ayres, Head Trainer, Combat Training Academy**

* * *

"I trust you've each read their files, yes?"

All three of them nod but it is Eros, naturally, who responds. "We each read them on our own and discussed them this morning."

I raise an eyebrow, once again impressed by the sheer commitment that my three Gladiators have put into even the smallest parts of their roles. Of course it is expected that they take this all very seriously, but even so they've upped the ante for all future teams. "And?"

Eros takes a moment to look behind him, silently consulting with both of his teammates. Another very interesting quality about this team seems to be their togetherness. Though Eros is the clear leader, all appear confident in collaborating on decisions. I have yet to see this type of interaction in my years of both training and teaching.

"There are no standouts. Not one page was marked amongst the three of us."

I sit back in my chair. I myself had gone over the files and had seen several older picks that I expected them to point out to me today. The fact that they saw no one as a threat both worries and excites me at the same time. "Are you confident that you looked closely at each?"

I watch as Eros' posture notably stiffens. "With all due respect, sir, we are."

* * *

 **A/N: Alright here we are with the first of the Capitol chapters. Just like with my last story, and I guess even more so now, there have been a lot of changes made to the structure of these chapters. The train rides are quite changed if you haven't noticed and that will continue as we get further into the story.**

 **Also hoping that you enjoy the little end snippet. I thought I would give some more insight into the Gladiators and other major characters. I'm considering doing one in each chapter just to add onto the world building that I can't work into the tributes' POVs. Hope you like.**

 **At this point I've pretty much given up on reviews but I'm still going to keep going with the story because I like it. If you review I love you and if you don't whatever. It just means I can update at my own pace without rushing since no one's reading amirite.**

 **Next will be this verse's version of training, which I'm pretty excited for. Exams are still a thing so updates will be random for a bit longer. Life gets in the way of writing how annoying right?**


	10. We Were Liars

"I will prove myself strong when they think I am sick.  
I will prove myself brave when they think I am weak."  
― E. Lockhart, _We Were Liars_

* * *

 **Training**

* * *

 **Ingo Arvallian, 18, Sector C Male**

* * *

Before a sound can even try to escape my open lips I feel a sharp nudge on the centre of my back, followed by a hissed warning. "Be silent, tribute."

 _Tribute_. I can't stand the sound of the word or the way that everyone around me seems to know what it means except for me. It's what that creepy man on the train called us too. I'm starting to think it must be some sort of slang they use here, and the way they spit the word reminds me of the crew boys who called me 'scum' every time they saw me. Fantastic.

I have no way of knowing how long we have been walking. I don't even know how long ago it was that my grandmother was locking the door behind me as I went to face the boys outside my door. It feels like time isn't even a thing here, but that's probably because I haven't seen the sky since I was led off the train. It's kind of hard to tell the time without clocks or even the sun around.

I know that I slept at least a little bit while inside my second cell. I am a little bit thankful because this one is far nicer than the one I was kept in back in Zero. It still doesn't have a window, but it does have a bright panel with a switch that makes it turn on. As soon as I figured out what the switch was I made sure to turn it off. There was already plenty of light coming from the wall screen, and I don't think that thing ever turns off. It reminds me a lot of the big screen in the cafeteria, only much smaller and much brighter. Instead of announcements, though, it's mostly just an invisible voice telling me all about nature and fighting. There is also a woman that shows up every once in a while to tell me more about what the man on the train said. Most of what she told me left me feeling as though I'd just eaten a whole bowl full of cold, week-old oatmeal.

The quartet of guards finally slows down as we near a door. The one closest to the front of the pack pulls back the handle and the one behind me shoves me through it. I stumble for a few steps before I am stable enough to quell my curiosity about where I could have possibly ended up this time.

The room I am in is huge, larger even than the cafeteria back in C. My feet sink into the floors, which look to be some sort of soft mat, as I stand still. There are guards lining the walls and the ones that brought me here join them as well, taking up the only four empty spaces left. Near the centre of the room I see a bunch of other people, all of them unfamiliar to me. I spot Leighton after a few seconds and make my way towards her.

"What is this place?" I whisper. I cringe as I hear my own voice bounce against the walls and echoing back at me. Leighton digs her nails into my arm, her face as much of a warning as I could ever ask for. Just like in the hallways, in this place we are to be silent.

I begin to take a look around at the others, seeing a few of them doing the same while most just stare down at their feet. I notice a tiny boy with huge eyes standing near the edge of the group next to a much taller girl with brown hair. The girl sees me a second later and her eyes shoot daggers in my direction. Suddenly my feet seem a whole lot more interesting.

"Welcome to Tribute Training Centre." The voice is so loud that everyone instantly begins to look around, wide eyes searching for the source of the booming voice that sounds so eerily familiar. It only takes me a few seconds to spy the huge screen that is taking over most of the far wall. On it is a man in a silver mask that clings to his features yet hides them at the same time. I can't imagine that I'm the only one that feels uncomfortable looking at the silver man.

"I trust that you all have had a good rest and are ready to pursue the next step in preparing for my game. Today you will put all of the good strategy that your mentors taught you last night to the test, I hope you have been listening to them."

Just as suddenly as he appeared the man is gone, leaving the room in a silence that feels much emptier than before.

Within seconds, however, one of the guards steps forward. "You will be allowed to train until nine o'clock, at which time you will all be escorted back to your rooms. There are demonstration screens at each of the stations for your benefit. The Game Master has been generous in providing the narrations himself. You may begin."

No one seems to know what to do at first and we all just stay where we have been standing through all of these announcements. After a minute or so I think that people begin to realize that there will be no more instruction and they begin to stray towards other parts of the room.

Without saying a word Leighton begins to make her way to one end of the room where very few of the others have gone to. As we approach I see a table full of what look to be giant knives. Upon tracing my hand down one of the handles I realize that they're not made of metal at all. I pick it up and poke it into my hand. Definitely not sharp by any definition.

"Do you mind if I hang out?"

Both of us turn around to see a very pale boy with hair that is even whiter than his skin. He has a dopey grin on his face despite the grim looks that everyone else seems to be sporting today. When I notice his eyes on Leighton I immediately understand what he's bothering us for.

"Believe me, you don't want to go there," I chuckle. "Not with her, she bites."

Leighton doesn't even blink, staring down the boy. He looks a tad bit uncomfortable but my words don't seem to sway him very much. "All I'm thinking is that a little lady like you doesn't need to be running around this death game alone. I'm offering my protection."

I'm about to cut in again but it's obvious that Leighton is capable of dealing with this guy himself. Without even giving the poor boy a warning her foot swings out and knocks him right off her feet. A pair of guards are on us in seconds, pulling her away from him before returning to their posts with a stern warning thrown behind them.

The guy looks too stunned to even move, and I quite honestly don't blame him. However bad I feel for him though is easily pushed aside by how glad I am that it's him on the ground and not me.

"Now," Leighton says calmly. "If you still want to talk about an alliance we'd be open."

"Uh-" I begin to cut in but Leighton stops me before I can.

"The man on the screen last night said that the Gladiators fear groups. The more people we have the less eager they'll be to go after us," she tells me a-matter-a-factly. I don't have an argument, but honestly I figured that if either of us was going to try and introduce new people into our already shaky alliance it would have been me.

* * *

 **Cadria Arias, 17, Sector A Female**

* * *

The environment around me feels a lot like a much cleaner version of the mountain, what with all the people scrambling to try and find something in a heap of utterly useless objects. The Tribute Training Centre, a mouthful of a title but fitting for such an encompassing room, is puzzling but I have spent far more time that I should have trying to figure it out.

I was hesitant to listen to the words of the lady that appeared on the wall of my room. She looked strange, like her face was a drawing and not a real face at all, and her clothes fit way too tight. I don't remember what she called herself, it was far too long and accented for me to understand, but I immediately disliked her. I felt almost bad for being so uneasy with her, but considering what I have already experienced with these strange looking people I don't think my reaction was very far out of line.

She told me a lot about what was going to happen today, though I don't think anything could have prepared me to see it. She also told me some more about why I was here. I think that was the hardest part of the night, hearing such definite words from her mouth and forcing myself to believe it. I must have cried for hours as the screen flickered on. It wasn't until much later that I finally allowed myself to take in what the screen was telling me.

It said that even though it's true that all of us may not make it out of the arena, there is still a possibility that four of us could. The screen lady told me that I would have to listen and watch if I wanted to be one of them. At some point last night I think something inside me realized that I need to be one of them.

I haven't much cared for the little demonstrations at the tables. The voice of the creepy man, the Game Master, is enough to steer me away along with a good number of others. I've noticed at least four of the other people taking a seat on the mats where we stood when we came in. By the looks of things, not many of them have taken the words of the screen very seriously. It was quite clear what today was for.

Alliances and learning. The first before the second, of course. Somehow in the midst of this tense, whisper-filled room I have to make friends or at least some version of friends. I have debated in my head for a good amount of time now and there really doesn't look to be any good way of approaching someone. You can't really ask someone if they want to work together to kill other teenagers with you. I don't think I could make myself say that if I tried.

I decide that it's time to give it a try. Normally I am very to myself, as I have been since we were told to begin our training, but this isn't exactly a normal situation. I have no idea who any of these people are and yet I have to get some of them to help me win this game. The mere thought of what this game is going to take is enough to make me sick.

I stand from the station as the Game Master's voice continues to drone on about fatal blows. I stopped listening a while ago, it just made me ill to hear about, but no one else was around and it gave me time to be alone and think. I would be content to stay here until we're brought back to our rooms, but I have to at least try and do what the lady on the screen told me. For the sake of my own survival in this game.

I spot a girl sitting at a station not too far from me. She doesn't appear to be listening to what the screen is telling her either and I decide that I'll try and talk to her. After a few more moments of back and forth with myself I make my way over to her and take a seat across from her.

"Hi," I say, my voice a whole lot more unsteady than I hoped it would be.

"Uh, hi," she says back, wrinkling her forehead and giving me a strange look.

"Um," I stammer. This is not going how I thought it would at all. I've probably freaked her out or something and I've only said hello. "I'm Cadria, and I was wondering if you'd like to be allies."

The word allies is strange to think about, but it feels even stranger rolling off my tongue. I don't like the new words here at all. Tributes, allies, they all sound so detached and serious.

"Thanks but no thanks. I don't want any," she says without even looking up. My stomach sinks even as I try to smile and reassure her that it's okay. I'll find someone else. It's still early, right? I look up at the clock but it's different than the ones I'm used to and I can't read it.

"Actually if you saw what was on that screen last night we all need them."

I look up and see a girl with brown hair and freckles towering over us. Her expression is kind, but it makes me uncomfortable to have her here watching me get rejected by this girl. Why aren't I getting up and leaving? Shouldn't I be leaving by now?

"I don't even know you," the blonde girl says, but I can see her eyes are now less sure of what she is saying.

"Then allow me to introduce myself," the brunette smiles. "My name is Blair and I think that the three of us should be allies. It would be better going into this... well whatever this is... with other people looking out for us, don't you think?"

I smile and nod eagerly. I have no idea who this girl is but I suddenly adore her. Maybe if this other girl doesn't want to join us the two of us can still be allies. I think that would be a very good plan, she seems genuine about it and I can't help but find her comforting.

"I guess," the blonde girl says after a moment's thought. "Aislinn, if you care to know."

"Excuse me?"

A fourth voice joins the conversation and I look around again to see yet another girl standing nearby. She has blonde hair like Aislinn but her appearance is a lot different besides that. She has a wide smile on her face and looks between the three of us eagerly.

"I'm Shaera," she continues. "I couldn't help but overhearing. A big alliance is just what I was hoping for."

She sits down with us and I give a slight shrug to Aislinn, who smiles sheepishly to herself. Blair looks uncertain for a moment and her mouth opens slightly as if she might say something further. My body tightens, sensing the same sort of invisible tension that almost always comes before an argument. I am relieved when the feeling goes away a few seconds later.

"Good, I guess," Blair sighs finally.

I smile. This has gone better than I could have ever hoped for.

* * *

 **Everett Montclair, 15, Sector H Male**

* * *

I hate it here.

I hate being in this room full of guards even more than I hated being locked in my room. More than being locked in that cell back in Zero. This whole idea is just plain stupid. The person on the screen last night told me that today would help me to prepare for being in the arena, but I think she was terribly mistaken. How is a room full of plastic toys and leaves supposed to help anyone learn how to survive? The answer- it's not.

One of the things I had hope for when I saw this place was that I would at least be able to find people to work with. Turns out that probably isn't going to happen either. I tried talking to a boy named Alastair, but it didn't take long for me to see what a freak he is. He was nice enough, but I'd be stupid to think that nice is going to help me get any further in this 'game'. Besides, he didn't seem nearly as interested in talking to me as he did watching some lady ramble on about hills and rocks.

My second try at it didn't go much better. I didn't even get within three feet of the pair from Sector E before the girl turned around and glared at me. A clear sign to go away if I ever saw one, but I was desperate enough by this point to continue trying anyways. The boy turned me down before I could even tell them my name.

Now I'm running out of options. If I were older, taller, and maybe even a little bit more intimidating to look at I'm certain I would already have locked up a solid alliance for myself. I've seen a lot of the older kids band together and I can't even pretend to act like I'm not jealous. After everything that I have learned about the game I'm heading into, I know better than to think that I stand a good chance at beating up someone three years older than me.

One of the guards calls out a three hour warning. Three hours? Haven't I already stayed long enough in this stupid centre? I'm beyond bored out of my mind, but every time I try to sit down at one of the stations reality begins to set in. I've found that the best way to deal with the impending Hunger Games is to simply pretend that they aren't real. Taking a seat and learning about survival and fighting really doesn't do much to help me accomplish that.

It's even worse to sit down and be alone with my thoughts, though. At this point I honestly can't think of anything worse than being alone when it gets to be time to start the game. I think the dread of playing would be enough to drive me crazy if I don't have anyone to shake me out of it.

I notice a boy sitting at a station not too far from where I'm walking. Maybe it's my previous thoughts that drive me towards him, or maybe it's pure desperation forcing me to walk in his direction. More than likely it's a combination of both, but before I know it I'm standing over him with a dopey smile on my face.

He looks up at me with an expression that is half-curiosity and half-disgust. "Um, can I help you?"

I swallow thickly. I hadn't had a chance to think about what I am going to say. Before I can think to hard about it, though, the words just start pouring out. "I'm Everett. I noticed you sitting over here by yourself and I was wondering if you wanted some company."

"Look, kid," he sighs. "I know what you're looking for and the answer is no. I'll tell you what I've told everyone else- I don't want or need an alliance. Now bug off."

"What if I told you I have some knowledge that could really help you out?" I'm sure I look as surprised at my words as he looks, but it's too late to take them back. I have no clue where the idea came from but it's one of my better ones I can tell that much. The look on his face tells me that I have his ears, and I know just what I have to say to keep them too.

He looks at me with slightly more interest, studying my face before saying anything further. "Alright, I'm listening."

I can't help but smile, wondering how come I didn't think of it earlier. "I have a plan to get out, but I need someone to help me. If you agree to join I can get you out too."

"What? Really?" He looks sceptical to say the least, but I have to take the fact that he is still talking to me as a good sign. I keep my face as serious as I am able to as he studies me. Despite the fact that I am unable to wipe the smile off my face, I must be doing a pretty good job.

"Really," I saw smoothly, knowing that the less I say the better at this point.

I think he is about to say more when we both turn around in response to a voice coming from behind us. I spin around on my heel to see a girl with sharp features and a boy with a mop of red hair. Both of them had spoken at the same time, but I'm not sure what exactly they each said.

It's the girl that approaches me first, grabbing my shirt in her fist while casting a glance at the guards behind her. "This isn't some kind of joke, is it?"

Her words are hard, but the look on her face is anything but. I didn't realize that my words would attract this much attention. It makes me even more annoyed that I didn't think of them earlier. I notice that all three of them are still staring at me so I shake my head quickly.

"I want in," she says simply and I nod in response. I look beyond her at the redheaded boy who begins to close in on us. Within a few minutes all three of them are standing in a sort of line, all of their eyes pinned on me. I manage to suppress the grin that I feel building at the corners of my lips, but only just barely.

* * *

 **Klay Deravel, 18, Sector E Male**

* * *

I'm not sure that I have ever felt so comfortable outside of my own home. It's almost as though being taken away from Zero has been some sort of twisted gift, allowing me to really let go of all that my life was forcing me into.

I could almost say that I am happy here. Almost. There is still the knowledge of what is to come that gnaws greedily at the back of my mind, quiet but impossible not to hear all the same. However if there was some way that I could take all of that away and be truly naive in these moments I think that I could be happy.

Unfortunately that looming knowledge will not simply go away. As much as I am enjoying spending my time with Tova... I mean Eloise, I have to also think logically about all of this. I know what is going to go down in just a few days time and the intelligent part of me knows that keeping Eloise around me for that long could be detrimental. I should be learning what I need to know to survive through this week and yet I am sitting on a cold mat braiding rope with Eloise.

Or I thought I was. When I look up a moment later I realize that the young girl is no longer sitting in front of me. I drop the rope I was working on, cringing when I see it unravel on the ground, and look around for her. I don't realize for a few seconds that my breathing has quickened. I make a face at myself, wondering what that is all about, but my eyes never stop scanning the room for Eloise.

I don't like the unfamiliar sinking feeling that seems to be growing in my chest. As soon as I spot Eloise the feeling vanishes and I find myself on my feet within seconds. Once again I can't help but wonder what's gotten into me.

Happiness, I try to reason, happiness is what's gotten into me. I have never gotten the chance to let myself be close to anyone except Tova, but even then that was only with mother around. Eloise is everything I know that my little sister will be when she gets older, I just know it. If I'm going to die I want to be happy for once. Away from my father's reputation, my mother's expectations, and all of my responsibilities.

If being around Eloise, even pretending that she's Tova, is going to give me that feeling that I want before I die then why spoil it. Sure, it may not be the smartest move to keep around someone so young and helpless, but who cares. I have always done the smartest move, maybe it's time for something else.

I begin to walk towards Eloise, only noticing the boy standing beside her when I am a couple steps from them. I stop to take a good look at him, but like all of the others in this room I am unable to recognize him. He has shaggy, brown hair and narrow, blue eyes and stands at least a couple inches taller than me, meaning that he towers over Eloise.

I don't realize that I am glaring at him until Eloise takes my hand and asks me what's wrong. I shake my head in response, my gaze softening when I look down at her. The way her eyes squint and her nose wrinkles just that little bit reminds me so much of my sister.

"Klay, this is Micah," she tells me, motioning her free hand towards the boy who stands awkwardly with his hands on his shoulders. "Micah, this is Klay. He came here with me on the train."

He nods his head meekly and I am annoyed by how difficult it is to dislike him. I want some sort of excuse to take Eloise away from him and get him off both of our backs, but so far I don't see one. I surprise myself by how much it bothers me that Eloise came over here by herself. Maybe mother was up to something keeping Tova up in our room all this time.

"I was just telling Micah about how nice you were to stay with me today, Klay," Eloise smiles and I can't help but nod. I don't like the way this conversation is headed, but I was never able to cut my sister off when she started talking. Anyone else I would have cut their tongue off by now but not Tova. Not Eloise.

Micah nods again and I can see that he looks almost as uncomfortable as I feel right now. I realize I am rocking on my heels and I immediately order myself to stop. There is no reason for this random person to make me nervous. No reason at all.

"He was wondering if he could join us," Eloise continues. "You know, when we get there."

"I-I was?" Micah blurts out and Eloise gives him a look that I can't see from my angle. Micah looks up at me and though there is a smile on his face I can see even more nervousness in his eyes than before. Good, maybe if he backs out now I won't have to give Eloise an answer.

No such luck. "So, what do you say?"

I look quickly from Eloise to Micah and back to Eloise again. If I say no like I really want to right now I will have made Eloise unhappy on top of making a possible enemy. Really there isn't much choice in the matter for me, but even as the words come out of my lips I force my expression into a narrow glare. As long as Micah knows where he stands in this alliance, I will keep him around for Eloise's sake.

* * *

 **Tallula Helras, 56, Servant**

* * *

I raise the kettle in silent question and all three nod their heads solemnly. Not one pair of eyes even begins to peel away from the glass barrier separating us from the training area. It is not my place to question the methods of the honourable Gladiators, but I cannot help but wonder what they could possibly be looking at for such an awfully long time.

I bow my head and begin pouring, topping off each glass carefully one at a time. I flinch as the spout chimes against one of the glasses, but not one of the still warriors so much as looks my way. I have been tending to them in all their watching hours, yet I have not seen one shared glance or heard one word from any of them.

For a brief moment I allow myself to glance through the glass and notice that the tributes are starting to be led out of the room. I must not have noticed the time, I was certain that it was no later than seven. As the last glass is filled a third of an inch below the rim I see the last of the tributes leave the training room.

In an instant it is as if the three of them come alive, looking to one another with an expression of solemn intrigue. Without a word they rise from their seats, abandoning the refreshments that I have prepared in front of them, and head for the door.

The sound of the door sliding closed releases me from the silence. With a deep sigh I lean down to pick the glasses from the table, placing them once again onto my tray. Never have I seen such unwavering concentration in all of my years. While all Gladiators are noble warriors, it is often not difficult to recognize that they are merely children at heart. These three, however, are peculiar cases indeed.

* * *

 **A/N: I have no excuse for why this took so long other than that I have moved twice and am once again about to start school. In all honesty I will not be concentrating on this story like I might have once planned to. My fanfiction motivation is dwindling and I have school to look forward to. That being said I am not quitting just yet. Updates may not be quick but I do plan to finish this story eventually.**

 **Review if you want, don't if you don't want to. I'm pretty much just writing this for myself at this point so.**


	11. Defeated Anger

"A void in my chest was beginning to fill with anger. Quiet, defeated anger that guaranteed me the right to my hurt, that believed no one could possibly understand that hurt." _  
_ _―_ _Rachel Sontag_ _,_ _House Rules_

* * *

 **Evaluations**

* * *

 **Demetra Van Sant, 16, Sector I Female**

* * *

"Simulation one will now begin."

The mechanical words send a shiver down my spine and my steps halt in place. I don't understand what the words mean, but I am ready. If I hadn't watched the screen last night I might have even less of a clue of what is going on right now. For the first time I am glad that I have not been able to break the screen or get it to shut up somehow.

The words of that strange orange woman echo in my head- "They're testing you, show them what you know. Don't panic." Still, though, it's difficult to ignore the heavy beating of my heart or the dryness of my throat as I stand frozen at the edge of a large, empty room.

 _This is just a test_ , I remind myself. _None of this is real._

Suddenly, the room I am in is not a room at all. I'm outside, at least that's what the chirping of birds tells me, but I'm not in any kind of outside that I have ever been before. I recognize trees as they bloom rapidly around me, but they are ten times the size of any trees I have ever seen before. Healthy, green leaves sprout from every angle until the sky has been completely covered above me. On the ground at my feet are thousands more leaves sitting in a bed of mud that somehow looks more inviting than any ground I have seen in District Zero. The colours here are so raw, so luscious that I almost forget that none or it is real.

The spell is broken as the sound of heavy footsteps makes the hair on my arms stand straight up. The noises around me make it difficult to determine which direction the sound is coming from, so I carefully scan the trees around me for a clue. The steps get closer and I zero in on where they are coming from.

My fists clench in anticipation and I realize that I am holding a short knife in one hand and some kind of large bow in the other. I immediately drop the bow, knowing that I will be much better able to defend myself with the knife. I'd never even seen anyone use a bow until it was described on the screen last night. I can't imagine that now is the time to learn to use one.

It feels like my shirt is strangling me and making it impossible to get a deep breath. I reach up and pull at the collar but it doesn't do much good. I wonder if where I am is supposed to be this smouldering.

I don't have the chance to wonder for too long. I raise my weapon in front of me, preparing for the moment that whatever is coming towards me finally breaks through the trees. My heart lunges up into my throat when I see the animal running towards me at full speed and hardly fifteen feet away.

I only have seconds to take in the size of the oversized cat before it is directly in front of me. I close my eyes, blindly stabbing with my knife towards where I hope its throat is as I use my other hand to cover my own neck. I hear a gargled screech from the cat and I open one eye to see it staring back at me with eyes blacker than night. Running down one side of the animal is a stream of red, presumably from my knife. Unfortunately, it doesn't act like any wounded cat I've ever come across. In fact, it seems angry that I have dared to take it on.

Without giving myself the chance to back down, I lunge forward once more with my knife pointed at its skull. At the last second the cat dodges, but I don't back down. I use the momentum of my strike to slice the side of the animal. Just as I hit the cat, I feel a strong paw hit me on my right side just above the hip. I stifle a scream and, allowing my instincts to take over, take another step straight towards the cat's throat.

The cat screeches in pain, throwing its head back and forth as the knife sticks out of its neck. I let go of the knife as another screech from the beast chills me in the humid air and I am afraid that this might not be enough to kill it. I back myself up against a tree, my breaths coming in quick bursts as I watch the cat stumble and finally fall into the mud.

* * *

 **Shaera Hanslok, 18, Sector G Female**

* * *

I'm not sure whether it is blood or tears that are running down my face this time. I've lost both the knife and the strange utensil in my initial fight with the enormous cat, and even if I had something left to attack with I'm almost certain I would still be running. I can hear the heavy footsteps still coming from behind me and the sense of dread continue to build in my gut. I don't care if none of this is real, I just want it to end.

"Simulation one is complete."

The mechanical words cause me to sob with relief as the footsteps disappear behind me and I collapse onto the muddy ground. I wipe at my face, finding a mixture of salt and red staining my fingers. I remember what the man on the screen told me last night about our evaluations. The first tests offence and the second tests defence. He said not to be afraid because none of the injuries we acquired would be real. What he failed to tell me is how real it would feel when the animal tackled me to the ground and swiped at my face with its enormous paw.

I shudder, suddenly cold in the hot temperature of the simulation environment. I don't want to do the second test. I don't think I can handle going through anymore today. I just want to go back to that dreadful room and sleep. I don't think sleep will be a problem tonight, not even with the screen droning on about weapons and plants all night. I just want more than anything to be done with all of this.

"Simulation two will now begin."

"No, please no," I shout to the trees and mud that surround me. I know that people can hear and see me, a least that's what the man on the screen told me. I know they can stop this.

No matter, no one stops anything and I begin to see the scenery change around me. The tree I had been leaning against transforms into a sturdy table and the mud beneath my legs turns into a wooden plank floor. The area around me is closed in by four walls and I realize that the second test will not take place outdoors. Silently I hope that means there will be no more of animals trying to kill me.

It's even warmer than before and I wonder if I have time to remove my sweater before anything happens. I decide to take the chance, but even clothed in just a shirt and pants I am boiling. I reach up and wipe sweat from my forehead. It's far too warm to do anything.

Amidst my heavy breathing I soon become aware of another sound. It's hard to place but I am certain that I have heard it before, I'm just not sure where. I begin to stand but immediately sink back down to the ground in a violent cough. The air is dry and thick above me, and much hotter.

Suddenly it dawns on me. I am listening to the crackling of fire as smoke builds around me; in a house made almost entirely of wood. I get onto all fours and crawl towards the nearest door, but the knob is far too hot to hold onto. A tap of the door tells me all I need to know. Behind this door is where the fire must have started, and it wants in.

I glance around the room and see a window on the other side of the room. I scramble towards it, moving as fast as I can given that my throat feels as though it is the thing on fire. I alternate between coughing and trying to get a decent breath in, soon collapsing on the floor from sheer exhaustion. I pick myself up as quickly as possible, determined to get to the window knowing that it will lead me to fresh air.

I feel like I am going to be sick and I can't even tell how far the window is anymore. My coughing becomes retching and I find myself once again laying on the ground. I just want to give up, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins doesn't understand that I'm not in any real danger. I hoist myself back up onto my hands and prepare to make one more effort to reach the window. I don't even think that I make it two more steps when I feel my centre of balance begin to shift again.

If I had to make a guess I would say that this is what death by smoke inhalation is like. I can no longer see anything in front of me and it feels like I am trying to breathe through a tiny straw. I fall forwards and my head hits the wall that has somehow appeared in front of me. With my last ounce of consciousness I reach up and my hand hits cool glass.

* * *

 **Kaelyn Powell, 13, Sector D Female**

* * *

The entire front of my body burns from where glass has ricocheted into my skin. In my hand is a small shovel that I grabbed from beside the fireplace when the simulation started, hoping that I could try to defend myself with it. I take in fresh air, the feeling of it sooths my burned throat but the taste of smoke seems impossible to get rid of. Grey clouds billow from the broken window behind me, and the fact that I escaped finally dawns on me.

"Simulation two is complete."

Just as before, the scenery begins to disappear around me and I am back in the all-white room where I started. I can still see the men and women looking down on me, but this time their faces are not blank. I've never been the best at reading expressions, but I would say they look kind of surprised. I don't blame them, I'm surprised too.

The man in the middle of the line speaks, and I am surprised that his voice is the same as the one I heard during the tests. Had that been him talking? I would never have thought that that voice could come from someone who looks so... human.

"The simulations are complete. Kaelyn Powell, you have been awarded a score of one out of ten for the offensive test and six out of ten for the defensive test. Please return to your room."

I don't know if I am supposed to respond, so I just stare back up at the line of people. They all look so intimidating and so important, like they have so many better things to do than watch me die once and almost die a second time. I catch one of the women's eyes and quickly turn away, where I notice a second ledge I had not earlier seen.

On it are three younger people, two boys and a girl. They too look intimidating, but for a completely different reason. Each of them stares down at me with a look in their eyes that I can only describe as hunger. I want so badly to look away, but something draws my eyes up to them. For some reason their presence scares me more than any of the older people.

A word from the train that brought me here rings through my head, and as I stare up at them all I can think is the word 'Gladiator'. I don't remember what the word means, but it seems to fit the three people staring down at me. I think they're important, but I can't remember why.

I finally tear my eyes away from them when a couple the men in black uniforms come out of a door and each put a hand on one of my shoulders. A chill runs up my spine when they touch me. No matter how many times I have seen them, I don't think I will ever feel comfortable around these people. Not after what they took me away from.

They lead me out through the door they came in and down a long, stark white hallway. I wish that the men would take their hands off of me, but I can tell that this would not be a very good idea. Instead, I let my mind drift back to what the people in the room told me. I don't really understand the numbers, but it doesn't take someone that smart to know that I didn't do very well in the first test. The second one I think I did better in, at least I hope so.

It doesn't really matter if I know what the numbers mean anyway. Like the person on the screen told me last night, it's to try and get people to bet on how I will do in the real game. I shudder at the word 'game', as if it is somehow just like the ball games kids play back in District Zero. I don't like how the people on the screen keep calling it a game. Games are supposed to be for fun, but this game is serious.

I can't keep my thoughts from going dark again. I know all of the rules for this game that I will be playing a few days from now, but I don't think they're going to help me very much. I'm not big enough to win this game, I know it. All the other players are bigger than me except for two of them, and not even just a little bit bigger. A _lot_ bigger. To win I have to be able to survive longer than all of them or kill someone, and neither of those possibilities seems very likely.

We reach a longer hallway lined with white doors, and the men quicken their pace. We stop in front of one and one of the men pushes a key into the lock, swinging the door open a second later. I am shoved hard from behind and before I can even get my footing I hear the door slam shut.

I sigh and collapse onto the bed. I'm not even tired but I wish I could sleep until this nightmare is over. Even back in District Zero, with nowhere to go and nothing to aspire to, I never felt this hopeless. I remember seeing it in people's eyes when they came in for a drink, but I never felt it. I was happy there, as happy as I can ever remember being, and now I will never be able to go back. I'm not even sure that I could go back if I did win this stupid game. When people disappear from Zero, they don't really come back.

* * *

 **Ronan Traupelle, 17, Sector G Male**

* * *

The noise from the screen grows suddenly louder and I clamp my hands over my ears to try and drown it out. It's no use, I am definitely awake now. I groan and sit up on the bed, leaning against the cold, white wall beside me. I blink the sleep out of my eyes, the light of the screen a very unwelcome sight. I had hoped to sleep long into the night, maybe even into the early morning. Truthfully I would have liked to stay asleep for as long as I could to avoid myself. I don't feel like the strong guy from Zero. I feel like the hopeless loser from Four and I hate myself for it.

Everything feels out of my control. In District Zero I could do something about how I was treated. I could at least try and become someone that was treated with respect. Here, just like in Four, I am nothing, but even worse I have no way out of it here. In Four I could at least try to revive my father's company. Here I am nothing and will be nothing until I win... or die.

As I stare at the screen I realize that it's not the same shitty person talking to me about the importance of, well, whatever he was talking about. There are two people sitting at a desk, laughing and talking to each other about something. I think they're talking about us- me and the other people, uh, tributes that came here with me. For once I am really listening.

"Don't forget about Ronan Traupelle, just from the look of the kid I would have thought he'd score well. That just goes to show you folks, not everyone is cut out for the Hunger Games- no matter how cute you are!"

My throat goes dry at the sound of my name in the foreign man's mouth. It doesn't sound right, my full name I mean. It doesn't sound like they're talking about me, but right behind them is a big picture of my face that I have no idea how they got. I want to shove my face straight back into the pillow, but there is always a strange kind of dreadful curiosity of hearing other people talk about you. It gets me in more trouble than I'd like to admit, but even so I can't force myself to tune the voices out.

"Now let's talk about some of the surprises from tonight's results, shall we?" The man talking has a moustache that nearly covers his lips and is the colour of mashed beans. His voice reminds me of the man on the train, but there is a distinct sort of playfulness that could never have come from the 'Game Master's' lips.

I shudder at the thought of the strange Game Master that spoke to us on the way here. Out of all the people I have come across in this strange Capitol, the Game Master is the only one that truly frightens me. Even the Gladiators, at least the kids I assume to be the Gladiators, do not intimidate me like the faceless voice. Not to say I look forward to actually meeting any of them face to face.

I have learned a lot about the game that the Game Master told us about. The screen and the many people that appear on it have showed me more than I ever wanted to see. During, what I think to be, the daytime the screen is filled with little talks about hunting and gathering or the different types of weapons that will be supplied. At night the screen is much darker. I haven't allowed myself to watch anymore since that first night I was here. I don't want to see the kids again. I don't want to see them die and picture myself in their places.

"Yes indeed, our two highest scores were both in the same category- and both by females!" The other man, the one with the thick curls framing his face, exclaims to the first man. "I'd say the odds are good that we have another Jacalyn Zinn on our hands!"

I shove my palms against my ears. I don't want to hear it, not one more word of this. I don't want to hear about Jacalyn Zinn or the two girls with the high scores or even myself! I just want to go to sleep and maybe stay there forever. I don't care if my sleep is filled with nightmares- I don't think anything my mind could come up with could ever be any worse than reality.

Suddenly it's as if I can't get enough air. My hands fly to my throat and I can feel my entire body tense up. The thought occurs to me that maybe this is what dying is. Maybe I won't even make it long enough to go through with this awful plan fate has made for me. Tears run down my cheeks, but I can't even make my hands move to wipe them. All I can do is sit frozen, my eyes aimed at the screen but not able to see anything at all.

* * *

 **Alecia Bourdelle, 31, Chamber Maid**

* * *

It is such an honour to attend to the Gladiators, but they do make such a mess. Each time I enter their suite it seems that another monumental wreck is here to greet me. I don't mind at all, of course. It is such an honour after all to be given such an important assignment. I cannot possibly expect them to keep their suite tidy themselves. Gladiators have many more important things to do.

I knock on one of the bedroom doors and, when there is no answer, I carefully slide the door open in case Gladiator Eros is sleeping. There is no one inside, which I find peculiar. The Gladiators tend to remain in their own rooms during times when they are not at attending special events. I know that they were to be at the Tribute Evaluations today, but it is well past nine o'clock and it should have been over by four.

I finish collecting the scattered clothing off of the floor and continue onto Gladiator Pyrrha's room. When I am back in the hallway I can hear the television in another room. Ah, that makes sense. The Evaluation results should have begun at nine o'clock and the Gladiators would want to watch that.

As always, Gladiator Pyrrha's clothes are thrown onto her desk chair making them easy to collect. A quick trip into Gladiator Odin's room and a second to drop the laundry down the chute, then I am onto the great room.

Just as I expected, the three Gladiators are seated on the sofa in front of the television. I catch a glimpse of the screen just as the Gladiator's evaluations are being discussed by the commentators. I am unable to help a look of utter dismay from crossing my face when I see the results. I have never seen any score less than perfect ten from any Gladiator in all of my years, but there it is staring me right in the face. A horrifying number nine listed beside Eros' name in the defensive category.

I manage to wipe the look off of my face before any of the Gladiators can see it, but my mind is racing. Every night since even before the tributes arrived I have watched many late night shows detailing the Gladiators. They all gushed about how capable they were, calling them one of the best teams to be chosen in the past fifty years! I can't comprehend it... a nine?

* * *

 **A/N: Uh, hello.**

 **Honestly this has been put on the backburner so long that I didn't think I would ever update, but here I am. I have been thinking a lot about this story and fanfiction as a whole, which somehow brought me to a completed chapter.**

 **I'm not going to promise that I am back for good or that updates will happen very quickly. I am going to say that once again the fanfiction bug has bitten me and I just want to write again. I'm hoping that means that this story will finally be completed, but like I said I will not make any promises.**

 **Anyways, if anyone is wondering how I scored the tributes here it is. Each of them went through the same two tests- killing the cougar and escaping a cabin fire. If the tribute scored five or above that means that they accomplished at least the main task which would be either killing the cougar or getting outside (points would be taken off for any hesitation, missteps, or accidents). If the tributes scored below five this means that they did not complete the main task (points also taken off for missteps, hesitation, etc).**

 **In case you're wondering, only 6/20 tributes killed the cougar and 10/20 escaped the cabin. Tbh the tributes are supposed to be generally bad at these things so.**

 **That is all, hopefully see you again soon.**


	12. Not Over Yet

"Her life was not yet over, she decided. It just felt this way."  
 _―_ _Hugh Howey_ _,_ _Wool Omnibus_

* * *

 **Night Before Launch**

* * *

 **Griffin Mastiff, 16, Sector D**

* * *

I am awoken from a fitful sleep by a drawn out buzzing sound. I groan and roll over onto my stomach, pressing my face into the cot. A second buzz comes a short while later and, with another protesting groan, I lift myself up into a sitting position.

After blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I see that the screen looks different than usual. It is completely blue with white letters sprawled across it. I think for a moment that my reading skills are going to be giving me some sort of advantage. A smirk dances across my lips. I'm certain that many, if not most, of the other tributes won't know what the screen says.

The moment of smugness doesn't last long, however. After the third buzzing, a woman's voice fills the room. "Tribute, please touch the screen for an important message."

I am confused to say the least, but with nothing better to do I walk the couple steps across the room and press the tips of my fingers onto the middle of the screen. As soon as my skin makes contact, the blue on the screen disappears and a woman's face appears at the centre of the screen. I stumble backwards, surprised by how blatantly she stares at me. It's like she is really looking at me, but I don't see how that could be true.

"Good evening, Griffin Mastiff," The woman says, her voice sounding eerily emotionless. "Tonight is the final night before the Hunger Games are to begin. As a gift from the Game Master, you have been given the opportunity to video chat with any of the other tributes. Please touch the screen for a quick tutorial."

Very little of what the woman tells me makes any sense, but I like the idea of being able to talk to Everett, Decker, or even Demetra. We didn't have time to discuss any of what we planned to do when the game actually began. Also, though I'd never tell any of them this, I've been freaking out for most of the today knowing that tomorrow is the big day and it would be nice to hear someone else's voice. For one of the first times in my life, I really don't want to be alone with my thoughts.

I reach out and tap the screen with two fingers. The woman's lips creep into a tight smile. "The tutorial will now begin."

The woman's face, thankfully, disappears from the screen and is replaced by a whole bunch of pictures. It takes me a second to recognize that they are pictures of myself and the other tributes, each labelled with our name and sector. All of the pictures are in full colour, except for my own which is grey.

"Simply touch the photo of the tribute you wish to video call, and wait for a response. Once the call has been accepted, you will be able to add other tributes by touching their photo which will appear on the left of the screen."

Immediately I tap on Everett's picture and the border of it turns green. I wait for what seems like forever before anything happens, briefly considering that this might be some kind of awful trick. Finally, Everett's picture grows to encompass most of the screen, with part of the screen still holding the pictures of the other tributes. I am still staring at the other tributes' pictures when I realize that Everett 's picture is moving.

I take a startled step backwards, the surprise apparently obvious on my face by the way that Everett is laughing. I move back to stand right in front of the screen. I don't understand how I am seeing him when he obviously isn't here. I've never seen anything like this.

"Isn't this so cool?" Everett exclaims, his face overtaken by a huge grin.

"How does it work?" I ask, unable to keep a smile from slipping onto my own lips.

"Who cares? Let's bring Demetra and Decker on here too."

I almost ask him not to, but I don't want to say anything that might upset him or think I'm not totally on his side. I can deal with Demetra if it means that I can be in on Everett's escape plan.

A moment later and both Demetra and Decker join Everett on the screen. I can hear all of them as well as if we were all standing in the same room. After a few words of greeting, Demetra gets right down to business.

"So what's the plan, Everett?"

Everett's face shows a second of surprise before he understands what she is asking. "Oh, well I don't think I should say yet. We don't need it until tomorrow. Probably a few days from tomorrow actually."

"What?" I am surprised when both Demetra and I respond at the same time.

"You know," Everett shrugs. "If they know that I know how to get out they might fix it or something."

"That makes sense," Decker adds. I had almost forgotten that he was here he's been so quiet.

"Does it?" Demetra says, raising an eyebrow. It's obvious she isn't pleased to have been blown off, but Everett makes a good point. If we can see each other on these screens than the people organizing this thing probably can too.

"I think so," I answer.

She scoffs. "Well _I_ think that we should all know about this plan. It's not a sure thing that we're all alive in a few days, after all."

That comment silences all of us. Of course, anyone that has been watching the screens knows this but it's a whole different experience to hear one of us actually say it. It seems that none of us really know what to say, so we sit in uncomfortable silence for what seems like a long time. The first noise I hear is a sniffle, and looking up I see that Decker is crying. Part of me wants to tell him that nothing will happen to any of us, but there doesn't seem to be a point in lying to him. If he wants to cry, I'll let him cry. Hell, give me a few days and I might just join him.

* * *

 **Alanis Marcham, 14, Sector H**

* * *

"Are we on board with that?" I ask, trying to keep the pep in my voice no matter what. The subject is dark, thinking about what is coming tomorrow, but I want Topher and Kaelyn to look to me like a leader and a leader would keep her head up no matter what.

Topher nods quickly, but Kaelyn doesn't look as on board as I could hope. "Do we even know what is going to happen tomorrow, Alanis?"

"Well, not exactly," I admit. "We just need to make sure that no matter what we meet up. I remember hearing that we would all start in the same place, so just make sure that you both stay near there so I can find you."

"If we're all starting in the same place doesn't that mean the Gladiators will be there too?" Kaelyn asks quietly.

I swallow thickly. I have tried to keep my mind off of the Gladiators, but I know that I do have to take them into account. "Probably, but that doesn't change the plan. You can stay away from them without going too far away from the starting point."

Kaelyn furrows her brows but nods, thankfully. Topher takes the opportunity to enter into the conversation. "It's a good idea, I think it'll work."

I smile. "Of course it will, Topher."

As much as I like talking with my allies, it's exhausting and I would like nothing better than to keel over onto my cot and go to sleep. I have been staying up as long as I can trying to listen to all of the things that the people on the screen talk about, but tonight it will be important to get enough sleep.

Tomorrow we will be taken into the 'arena' as it's been called, and that could bring all kinds of surprises. I saw a few of the arenas from the past and they are all outside, but look nothing alike. One was covered in the kinds of trees that were in the simulations, and it was always dark because of the branches covering the sky. Another had almost no plants or anything and by the looks of the sweat-covered tributes it must have been pretty hot. I'm not sure what kind of arena I'm hoping we have, but I didn't like the look of any I've seen.

"Alanis?"

I realize I have tuned out of the conversation and shake my head as if to shake out the distracting thoughts. "Sorry, I was thinking about something else."

"It's okay," Topher smiles. "It wasn't important, I was just wondering how we're gonna eat when we go in the..."

"Arena?" I try.

"Yes! The arena tomorrow," he blushes.

I smile. "You can leave that up to me. I've been paying attention to all of the things the people on the screen have been telling me. I'll be able to take care of all of us, all you have to do is listen to me."

"I can do that," Topher assures me.

"Then you're set," I grin. I liked Topher from the moment I saw him. He is the youngest one here and he definitely looks it, but he's a good kid. I knew that I wanted to have allies that were younger than me ever since I learned that I should have allies in the first place. Topher and Kaelyn fit the bill perfectly when I saw them trying to follow a talk about poisonous plants during training. I wish Kaelyn wouldn't ask so many questions, but I'm confident that I'll get her to trust me soon enough. After all, what choice does she have? I didn't see anyone else lining up to talk to her. Just me. I'm all she and Topher have.

I've never been the one to be in control. I never even knew how great it could feel to have people under me that are willing to do anything I say. I want to do well by Topher, and Kaelyn too I suppose, and prove to him that I am the right one to lead them through this. I have always been nervous, scared to death of somehow being caught, but oddly enough I feel almost at ease here. That's bound to change, but for now I open the change in myself.

"I'm not scared," Topher says softly. "Alanis knows what to do."

I grin despite myself, not understanding for a moment that the two had been arguing. It takes one look at Kaelyn's face to see that she wasn't happy. Before I can interrupt, she continues. "No one knows what to do! No one even knows what is going to happen to us once we get in the arena!"

"Kaelyn," I hush her and the two of them look surprised at the sound of my voice.

"That's not true," Topher asks, his eyes wide and glazed in tears. "Right, Alanis?"

I think for a moment. Of course Kaelyn is completely right, but I don't want them worrying needlessly. "I'm going to do everything I can to protect both of you. Nothing is for sure, but I'm going to do all the right things to make sure we're safe."

Topher nods softly but Kaelyn doesn't look convinced. Without anything more to discuss, I decide this would be a good point to end the conversation on. "I'm going to go to sleep now, to prepare for the long day tomorrow. Both of you should get some sleep now and try not to worry about anything, just leave everything up to me."

"Okay, goodnight," Kaelyn says quietly. She does look tired.

"Goodnight," I say back with a nod.

"Goodnight Alanis. Goodnight Kaelyn." The yawn that comes between the words gives away Topher's exhaustion. I think we all need some sleep. Maybe that will clear my head.

* * *

 **Valora Cordett, 18, Sector F**

* * *

It's been as long as I can stand to wait since the woman on the screen showed me how to call the other tributes. I didn't really spend time during training looking for an ally. I really didn't think I would need one, but after watching the screen that night I realized I might have made an awful mistake. Just like in District Zero I need people to protect me. Since I didn't take the chance to hand pick during training, I guess I'll take whoever is left and willing.

I have learned that once a tribute is calling someone, their picture goes grey. By now most of the pictures are grey, well all of them except for two actually. I don't recognize either of them, much less know their names. Their faces look grim in the pictures, maybe even more than the others. I don't care, I just need someone.

I tap my fingers over both of their pictures, hoping to myself that one of them will answer. For a minute I think that both of them are ignoring me and I begin to panic. I have blown my only chance to meet allies face-to-face and now neither of these boys wants to even answer my call. I'm going to be going into this game alone and there is nothing I can do about it. Nothing but keep hoping someone will answer.

Finally one of the pictures gets bigger, filling most of the screen in front of me. I hold my breath, hoping that this means that he has picked up. Sure enough, I find myself looking at the boy in the picture who looks slightly sunnier than he did in that picture.

I realize that I have been staring in silence for much too long. I curse myself silently. I've never been this nervous to talk to anyone in my life, the roles are always reversed. I just need to say something so he doesn't leave. Something, anything. Now.

"Um, hi?" He mumbles.

I swallow thickly. "Hi. I'm Valora, I thought you might want to talk."

"I'm Ronan, and you thought wrong," he says and my heart sinks.

"Sorry," I say softly.

Neither of us says anything for a moment, and I take the fact that he hasn't left yet as a good sign. A moment later, a second photo fills the other half of the screen and I realize that the other boy has answered.

This time I try not to act as awkward. "Hi."

"Hi?" The boy says tentatively. I am taken back when I see that his eyes are bloodshot and his cheeks are stained with tears. It doesn't take a genius to know that he has been crying. Suddenly I am at a loss for words... again.

"What do you want?" Ronan asks, his own face now turning red.

I realize that there isn't going to be a good way to bring up the idea of being allies. I just better come out and say it before I lose both of them. "I was hoping you two would want to join up with me."

There is silence for a moment and I think that they are both surely going to leave the call. I can't even bring myself to look at them, I'm too embarrassed by how forward I asked the question. Couldn't I have come up with some other way of saying it? Some way that didn't make me feel so vulnerable and look so needy. This isn't me and I want desperately to take back the offer, but even more desperately I know I need allies. The wait until one of them answers feels like torture.

"I don't know," Ronan murmurs.

"Maybe," the other boy says at the same time.

The three of us can't help but crack a smile. I'm relieved that at least one of them is interested and not completely turned away by the awkwardness of the situation. It feels so good to smile that a second later I start laughing. I'm not sure what's so funny, or if it's just relief that makes me do it, but I have never felt so comfortable since I was taken from District Zero days ago.

I don't even realize that the other two have started laughing until I've already stopped. The sound of laughter makes me laugh even harder this time. It feels so ridiculous, laughing with these two strangers as if we have been friends for years. I have never been more grateful for a moment in my life.

"You know what," Ronan says through turned up lips. "I'm in."

"Thank Panem," I smile.

"Me too," the other boy nods. "I'm Alastair by the way."

"I'm Valora," I tell him, the grin on my face feeling more natural than it ever has. "And this is Ronan."

"I'm glad you called," Alastair says. "I needed this."

"I'm glad you answered," I say honestly, and it's true. I had hoped they would agree to be allies out of fear and necessity, but I think I could actually get on with these two. Anyone that can make me laugh when I'm a day away from what might be the hardest day of my life couldn't possibly be bad for me.

* * *

 **Quentin Reiss, 18, Sector A**

* * *

Another silence comes over us and we all look away from our screens. The day we all met in training was so much different than today. We could joke back then about what was happening around us- the stone faced guards, the plastic weapons we were supposed to 'train' with, even the stupid people that talked to us through our screens every night. Now it feels like a black curtain has settled over our group, sucking all of the jokes out of our minds before we can even think of them.

"Do we have a plan for tomorrow?" I ask, trying desperately to break the suffocating silence for probably the third or fourth time.

"How are we supposed to make a plan when we don't even know what's going to happen?" Leighton says, rolling her eyes. At least she has still kept her _lovely_ personality through all of this. No matter how annoying her attitude can be, I'm thankful for it. It's something that I know is coming. It's predictable, unlike most of what's going on.

"Well," I try again. "We know that we're going to be 'launched' into the arena tomorrow. That's something."

"That's all we know," Ingo mumbles. He's been quiet most of the time that we've been talking, which is very unlike the person I met during training. It's making me even more worried, and when I'm worried I talk... _a lot._ Having no one to answer me is making things feel at least a hundred times worse.

"That's not _all_ we know," I say, forcing a laugh at the end. "We know that it will probably be outside and that we will have a chance to get supplies at the beginning of the game."

"And we know the Gladiators will be there," Ingo says softly.

"Yeah," Leighton and I murmur in unison. I can't stand this dark silence, not for another minute. It's like we're already dead, when right now is the time we need to start fighting. I'm starting to think that both of my allies have already decided to lose, but I can't even think about letting them. I have to get through to them and I have to do it tonight.

"Stop it," I spit, causing both of them to flinch. "Stop it right now. You're acting like we're already dead and we're not, not by a long shot. So stop acting like pathetic little scum and fight for us."

There is silence for a minute and I briefly consider that they might just leave instead of facing what I'm saying. Finally Ingo looks up at the screen, and by the look in his eyes I can tell he is looking straight at me. "If you dare to call me scum again I will drop kick you into the next decade."

I can't help but crack a smile. "Then stop acting like scum."

The look on his face changes and I know he is trying hard not to smile. It doesn't take long before he breaks and I know that I've got him back. "Stop acting like one of those stupid Zero rebels then."

I laugh at the reference, thinking back to the first day I saw one of the 'Zero rebels' Ingo is referring to. It wasn't more than a week after I arrived in Zero that I saw an old man with a sort of crazed anger in his eyes spewing nonsense about turning against the Peacekeepers and taking back Panem. It didn't take more than a minute for the Peacekeepers to throw him to the ground a put a bullet in his head. Zero rebels are just saying what the rest of us are thinking, but it's the saying it part that makes them as good as dead.

"Deal," I tell him.

"Deal."

I return my attention to Leighton, who has not looked up for some time. It's Ingo, though, who beats me to the punch.

"Leigh, perk up," he says pointedly. "Quentin's right, the world isn't over. At least not yet."

Leighton looks up and both of us are taken back by the glazed look of her eyes. "Don't call me that, and don't tell me to perk up- you don't control me."

"That's not what I-" Ingo begins but Leighton doesn't let him finish.

"You two boneheads might not understand this, but we're finished. The things they show from years before us, it never shows the tributes winning. It always shows the Gladiators killing them. Always. They've been ready for us for years and they're going to win and there's nothing we can do about it. So just stop trying."

Neither of us know how to respond and for a moment Ingo and I just avoid looking up. I never realized it, but she's right. Every moment I remember seeing shows the death of a tribute and not once have I seen a Gladiator dying. That doesn't mean one never has, but it sure does suggest it.

"Exactly," Leighton says softly, tears threatening to escape her eyes. We don't have another chance to respond because Leighton leaves the conversation.

"Should we call her back?" I ask tentatively, though I can already guess at the answer.

Ingo shakes his head. "No, she's just overwhelmed. She'll be fine by tomorrow I'm sure."

I nod, but if I were to guess I would say tomorrow will be worse. "I think I'm going to go too."

"Really?" Ingo looks actually surprised and I feel kind of bad, but I need time to think.

"Yeah, sorry." I don't bother saying bye, I just tap the screen to leave the conversation.

I flop down onto my cot, my hands covering my face. I thought that I was confident in myself and my alliance, but now I'm not so sure. Could Leighton be right? Are we fighting a battle that we are sure to lose? She couldn't be right, I couldn't handle it if she might be right about this. I never really considered that I could actually die, but maybe it's time I do.

I have all night, after all I don't think I'll be getting to sleep anytime soon.

* * *

 **Seneca Ayres, Head Trainer, Combat Training Academy**

* * *

"I've remedied the situation, Eros."

I turn back to the boy, my star student for many years, who sitting in front of my desk looks smaller than I have ever seen him look. I couldn't believe it when I saw that he had gotten a nine during evaluations. It just couldn't be possible that Eros Abner was any less than perfect. No Gladiator that I have ever been around to see has ever gotten less than a perfect score. I just couldn't let that kind of reputation be ruined for the Academy.

"Thank you, sir," the boy says, not meeting my eyes. I know that he must have been just as humiliated as I was after seeing the results, but he must have known that after a performance like his a ten just could not have been given. I demanded to see the tape afterwards and the reason was easy to spot. He hesitated. He lost the control that has been carefully taught to him over his lifetime. He choked.

I almost decided to let the shame of the score be his punishment, but that would have had far too many repercussions for the Academy. I couldn't let Panem believe less of any one of my Gladiators, especially not Eros. I called for a rerelease of the scores, with the edit I asked for. Let Panem look down on the press for mixing up the scores, it is necessary.

"You know that I am disappointed."

"I do, sir," Eros responds.

"You mustn't tell anyone what I have done for you," I warn him. "Especially not you team. Let them believe the press' statement."

"I will, sir."

* * *

 **A/N: Here I am, back with another chapter just like I had hoped. It was easier to get back into this story than I expected it to be, actually. I hope that will mean quick updates for a while.**

 **Allies have now all been revealed and have been updated on the blog, but just in case I'll include them here as well. Eros' results have also been updated.**

 **Cadria/Aislinn/Shaera/Blair  
** **Quentin/Leighton/Ingo  
** **Micah/Eloise/Klay  
** **Kaelyn/Alanis/Topher  
** **Griffin/Decker/Everett/Demetra  
** **Valora/Ronan/Alastair**

 **I am very grateful to everyone that reviewed and I hope they continue. The little notification I get when a review comes in often reminds me that I need to get some writing done, so it could help me get chapters done more quickly.**

 **Next chapter will be the last before the tributes get into the arena. Very excited for all of the things I have planned during the games portion of this story and I hope you all will stay with me long enough to see them happen.**

 **Until next time.**


	13. Wait to Die

"I'm sorry if humans mistreated your people in the past, but if we don't join together now, it's time to admit that we're all just keeping busy while we wait for the Earth to die."  
 _―_ _Andy Goldman_ _,_ _The Only City Left_

* * *

 **Launch**

* * *

 **Aislinn Keymar, 18, Sector B**

* * *

I'm not sure what time it is when I wake up. This tiny room is timeless it seems, with no windows or clocks to give me any idea if it's morning or night. Each time I look around this room there is a sense of dread that fills me, the clean white walls a reminder that I am a long way from home.

I am suddenly struck by the silence. Looking to my right I see that the screen has gone black, something I have never seen it do before. Without the chattering of the screen the room is filled with an eerie sort of silence that feels like it penetrates deep into my skin and sticks to my bones. Quiet is something that I have always appreciated, but not this one. It feels sinister.

I don't know what to do with myself without the screen to watch. My entire world in this room has revolved around the screen and trying to learn everything I could from it. There is nothing else for me to do in this room other than sleep, but now I am definitely not tired. I'm not even sure I would be able to get to sleep without the screen on in the background. I've gotten so used to the noise.

I begin to pace back and forth in the room- three steps one way, turn, and three steps the other way. Before long I'm dizzy and I sit back down. It feels wrong not to be moving for some reason and I stand back up.

Someone bangs on the door and I jump, throwing myself into the farthest corner away from the door. A second later one of the guards bursts in, his arms filled with white fabric. He takes one look at me and throws a mound of the fabric on my bed.

"Put these on, tribute," he spits. "They'll be here for you in five minutes."

Even after the man leaves I am unable to move. My hands are trembling and my heart is pounding against my chest so loudly I can hear it in my ears. I sink down to the cold floor, my legs unable to hold me for another second. The time is now. They're coming to get me in five minutes. Maybe four minutes by now.

I pull myself to my feet and stumble towards the bed. I pick up the white fabric and find that it's a dress, probably about knee length with sleeves that cap my shoulders. I take off the clothes I had been wearing and pull the dress over my head. The fabric is itchy and thin enough that I feel a draft, but the dress fits well. I wonder for a moment if this will be the dress I will be buried in.

I sit back down on the edge of the cot. I look down and see that the trembling in my hands has not stopped. I feel sick and I realize that I haven't eaten yet. That's probably best, I think I would throw up anything I tried to put in my stomach.

The door opens and a pair of guards enters the small room. I don't see her at first, but behind them is a small woman with light hair and eyes that look far too large for her face. She pushes her way through the two guards and stares at me so intently that I have to look away.

"Take those off," she tells me sharply, pointing down at my feet. I am not wearing shoes so I assume she is talking about my socks. I bend down and pull them off of my feet, exposing my bare soles to the cold tile.

She moves in and reaches for my hair, but I knock her hands away instinctively. Almost as quickly, the guards move to surround me on both sides and hold my arms away from the woman. I glare up at one and he smiles.

The woman doesn't even blink and grabs my hair, pulling a comb from her bag and pulling at the strands. I don't give any of them the satisfaction of saying so, but each tug feels like she is trying to pry my scalp from my skull. She finally finishes with that and grabs a strange container next, telling me to close my eyes. I'm glad that I decide to follow her instructions, because a moment later my face is assaulted with a sweet smelling dust. I feel her run something sticky across my lips and then nothing.

I open one eye tentatively and the woman is gone. The guards pull me to my feet and march me out of the room and down a series of hallways. A couple of the doors we pass are open and I see that they all look just like the room I left, white and empty. I wonder if some of the other tributes are already there- wherever there is.

We approach a door at the end of the final hallway and I feel like my throat is about to collapse. Is this where it begins? Am I about to enter the Hunger Games? Breaths come in short, painful bursts until we finally stop in front of the door. I'm not sure how long I held my breath before the door finally opens and I am shoved ahead of the guards into a swarm of shouting people.

* * *

 **Micah Theron, 18, Sector B**

* * *

I freeze when I see the crowd of people waiting outside.

There are more people here than I think even live in my sector, and they're all yelling or hoisting banners up into the air above them. I cannot make out any of the words that are coming from their lips. To me it just sounds like an endless screech of noise like nothing I've ever heard before. I look down at my bare feet and the white runway that stretches out in front of me.

A hard shove from behind me is enough to get me moving. I place one foot in front of the other, only vaguely noticing that my legs are shaking under my weight. The crowds of people seem endless on either side of me, their faces twisted in both anger and disgust. I catch the eye of one woman in the front, who spits in my direction.

I think I'm crying, but the noise of the people around me overpowers any feeling that would tell me for sure. I shiver in the thin, white fabric that covers me despite the fact that the sun is shining brightly above me. I feel cold and exposed and like I want to be anywhere except where I am, but keep walking. The hand on my back ensures that.

I stop looking around me and concentrate on my steps, watching as my feet step daintily over a nail that was thrown into my path. A tear hits the fabric underneath me and this time I know that I am crying. I reach up to wipe my cheeks and my hand comes away soaked in tears. As afraid as I am of where I might be walking to, I want so badly to get there if it means these people will stop yelling at me.

As the path in front of me begins to incline I chance a look up and see what just might be the most terrifying building I have ever seen. It is made out of shiny metal and the door that leads inside looks like the jaws of some huge animal. If it weren't for the hand pushing me from behind I would have stopped dead in my tracks.

The noise of the crowd is magnified as I step into the opening of the metal building. I put my hands up to cover my ears but just as quickly they are slammed back down to my sides. I let out a whimper that I am thankful no one is able to hear, not even me.

In front of me, another door slides open and I am pushed through this opening too. Out of the corner of my eye I can see that I am not the only one in here. There are three other people, Aislinn and two others that I recognize from the day of training. The guards march me to the end of the room and push me down into the seat beside Aislinn. Though she is the nearest person to me, I know that if I were to reach out an arm I would not be able to touch her.

A man clothed in red approaches as the guards finish fastening me into the seat. He doesn't look at me, but takes a tight grip on my arm and reaches into his pouch. I flinch as something sharp pricks my skin and try to free my arm, but my struggling only seems to push it deeper into my arm. Finally, he withdraws the object and releases my arm. As he moves away I see that he's holding a needle just like the one people use for drugs in Zero. I shudder at the thought of what might have just been put in my body.

It seems to take forever before all of the seats are finally filled. I see the light from where I came in grow smaller and smaller before it disappears altogether with the sound of sliding metal. My seat begins to quake and everyone looks around with pale faces and wide eyes. I get the feeling that we are moving, the hum of the room making me think back to the box I woke up in after leaving Zero. My stomach turns upside down and I am suddenly very glad I haven't eaten anything today.

The dark haired girl beside me throws up yellow-tinged liquid all over her bare feet and the sour smell makes me gag. I hear someone else retching and across from me the boy across from me clamps his hands over his ears. I close my eyes, hoping that someone will come clean up the mess that is trailing towards my feet. I cringe as I feel the bile spread beneath my toes.

I don't think it takes long before the room stops shaking, but I can't be sure how long it is exactly. I open my eyes and see the brightness near the entrance begin to reappear. Two guards step in and unfasten the people nearest to the doors. One by one they are led away and soon I too am marching out of the room, liquid squishing underfoot with each step.

* * *

 **Blair Myles, 18, Sector J**

* * *

I'm the third person to walk down the ramp and into the dark building. It looks nothing like the stark white of the place we came from- in fact it's nearly opposite. The hallway is narrow and cold, reminding me of the small alleyways between the buildings back in Zero. The concrete walls have the look of not having been washed in months, but the space smells strongly of bleach. My feet go numb as I step across the icy floor.

I am stopped in front of a door and the guard reaches out and jiggles the door knob several times before it swings open. I take one step into the room and the door is slammed shut behind me. Instinctively, I reach for the knob but stop when I hear the lock click into place.

I turn and see that there is someone else in the room with me. It's a willowy woman with short, light hair and dressed completely in red just like the man who stuck a needle in my arm. She approaches me from the edge of the room and my heart races. Without any guards here to hold me down I will not be taking a needle so easily.

My fists clench at my side and the woman stops a few feet away from me. "Would you care to have a seat?"

"No," I say immediately, not taking my eyes off of her. She tilts her head to one side like a confused toddler and motions me towards her. I shake my head and lean back against the door.

"It's alright, Blair, I mean no harm," the woman says softly. "I am here to care for you. Simply ask and I will try to provide you with anything you wish for."

"Get me out of here." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and the apologetic smile that crosses the woman's lips makes me feel sick. I know before she even has to say it that there is no chance in Panem that she will even try to help me with this request.

"I am unable to allow you to leave this room, Blair," she begins.

"Stop saying my name!" I spit. She has no right to know my name when I don't know anything about this woman except that she is working with the people who brought me here to die. No right at all.

"What would you prefer me to call you?" She asks blankly.

"I don't care, anything else," I murmur. A wave of guilt washes over me for shouting at the woman, but it is soon replaced by more anger. Why is this woman even here? I would much rather be alone in this strange place than with this woman.

"Alright, miss," she nods carefully. "I am Winoma Haslyn, if you'd care to know. We will both be here for an hour or more, so I suggest you get comfortable."

Once again she motions back towards a round table with several chairs placed around it. I shake my head, sinking down to the ground in front of the door to show her that I have no intention of letting her tell me what to do.

"Very well," Winoma sighs. "Your uniform will be delivered anytime, and unless you would like to be dressed by the Peacekeepers I would advise that you cooperate and put it on yourself without a fuss."

I shrug and place my chin on top of my knees. Winoma watches me for a few moments before she seats herself at the table and roots through a large bag on the chair beside her. I look away when she notices me watching her.

There is a knock at the door and I jump. Winoma looks unsurprised and calls out to whoever is at the door, telling them to be careful when opening the door. I shift away from the door just enough to allow them to open it a couple of inches. A man dressed completely in red walks in without saying a word, hands Winoma a long bag with a hanger sticking out the top. She thanks him and he leaves without even a glance in my direction.

Winoma must notice me staring after him. "That's an avox, Miss Myles."

I have no idea what she means by this. I have never heard of an 'avox' but I have seen a lot of people dressed like that man. My curiosity easily overrules my dislike of Winoma. "What's that?"

"They are from your district," she says simply. "The people that are able to keep their record clean, they work for Panem afterwards."

I had heard of people being able to leave District Zero, though I had never known anyone who has left. It was never an option for me, but I had dreamed of being able to get out since I arrived in Zero. It doesn't seem real that people actually got out, but something about the avox still bothers me. Stories about freedom outside of Zero were told all over the district, but nothing mentioned working for Panem.

"Why don't they say anything?"

Winoma bites her lip and I think for a moment that she isn't going to answer. I keep her gaze, hoping she will continue and eventually she does. "They can't. As part of their contract with Panem they have their tongues removed. It ensures their silence."

"W-what?" I stammer. I had noticed their silence, but I thought maybe they just didn't talk. I didn't consider that they couldn't. "Silence about what?"

Winoma stands up and steps over to me, squatting down in front of me. My eyes are wide as I watch her, and her expression is careful, maybe even nervous. "Panem doesn't know the truth about District Zero. They never have, and that's how people here like it. I know about it from tributes like you, Blair, but I'm not supposed to. The avoxes must be quieted, and so must you."

"Why don't they know?" I am outraged, but it all makes sense. Thinking back to my life in District Two I never knew much about District Zero. I knew it was where criminals were sent, but nothing else. I don't understand why no one is allowed to know about it.

"There is a lot of unjust there," she says slowly. "A lot of people that shouldn't be there, being held and killed by the neglect and violence that is allowed to go on. If people knew there would be upset. A lot of people have relatives and friends in District Zero. They would demand change and the last time that happened the Capitol lost a lot of power. The new authority doesn't want to lose power, they are able to keep control almost solely based on people's hatred and fear for the citizens of District Zero. Without that they have no power here."

"That's not right," I choke out, tears of anger making my vision go blurry. It all comes together, the people throwing things at me as I left the building this morning and the cruel treatment from the Peacekeepers and trainers. They hate us, and it's because of a bunch of lies.

"It's not, but Blair there is nothing you or I can do about this," she says softly.

"Couldn't someone try?"

"Oh sweetheart, so many people have tried," she sighs."But the new authority is just too powerful."

* * *

 **Alastair Caine, 17, Sector I**

* * *

I can't shake the awful feeling that I am going to die.

My hands tremble as I lift the cup of tasteless liquid to my lips, taking a tiny sip to try and get rid of the dryness in my throat. In front of me, Amos continues to chatter on in an attempt to try and fill the emptiness of the room. It doesn't work even a little bit and I am starting to think that the emptiness is possibly coming from my own soul.

I have always thought I was destined for something bigger than District Zero. I lived in hope that one day I would be taken away from the pitiful life that I had been given and start fresh somewhere with better opportunities. I think deep inside I knew it wasn't going to happen, but it would have killed me to get rid of hope that it could. District Zero killed the optimism in so many people, if I let it happen to me I might have well have killed myself.

I flinch when the voice first comes from the ceiling above us. "Forty five minutes until launch."

"It's only the control room, Ali," Amos says with a sympathetic smile on his face. I don't know how to tell him not to call me that. I'm not even sure that it matters enough to try.

"Oh," I say softly.

Amos stands and begins to peel open the long bag that has been sitting on the table between us. When they brought it in he had told me that it was a gift for me. I couldn't imagine what it could be and quite honestly I really don't want to know. Even now as he peels back the plastic I can feel my heart beat just a little bit faster.

He pulls out a puffy jacket that looks far too big to be for me and places it over the back of the chair. I can't keep my eyes off of it for some reason. Not until he places a pair of denim pants, a thick navy sweatshirt, and a matching navy toque over it. Once he is done he looks back up at me with a smile that makes my chest tighten with dread.

"Time to get dressed."

Despite what I thought, the clothes all fit me perfectly. As Amos slides the toque over my head I begin to tremble even though I am anything but cold in the thick clothing. Amos flashes me an apologetic look and then moves to adjust my jacket, zipping it up halfway so that the navy sweatshirt is still visible underneath it.

He steps back to look at me and I can only stare down at the bulky socks that cover my feet, also bearing the same color as my toque. I have the urge to cry but I blink back the tears, trying my best not to think that this morning may have been the last time I will ever wake up. I want to be positive, I want to believe that I am going to make it out of this and go wherever I want in Panem for the rest of my life. It just feels like I am lying to myself, but I have to do it. Lies are more comforting than the truth right now.

"Do you want to see?"

I look back up and see Amos staring at me with pity dripping from his face. I shake my head. I don't want to see myself. I don't want it to be the last time I get the chance. I don't want to think that it probably will be.

"Okay," Amos nods as if he expected me to refuse. "I'm going to call in the stylist to make sure you look alright, okay?"

I nod again. I don't think I can choke out even a simple 'yes' without my voice betraying my thoughts.

Amos walks over to a strange box near the door and speaks into it, asking for someone named Alessia. I think I might have known someone with that name back in Zero, but I'm not sure. I try to concentrate on the name but it's pointless. My mind returns back to the dark thoughts just like it has all morning.

"Would you like to sit down?" Amos asks and the carefulness in his voice makes it even more difficult to blink back the tears in my eyes.

I think I'm falling down, or am about to, because Amos rushes over and catches my side to guide me over to the chair at the table. My vision is blurry and my breathing is quick, and right now that is all I can concentrate on. That and the feeling, no not the feeling the _knowing_ , that I am about to die. Maybe if I'm lucky my heart will give out right here and I won't have to see what the arena looks like. No one will kill me if I just die right here. For a minute or two that's all I can think about is how much I want to just drop dead.

Of course I've never been that lucky. Alessia walks in, takes one look at me and chides Amos for not putting enough powder on my nose. She brushes something onto my face and tells him that I look good enough. Then she leaves, and there is more silence. Actually, no Amos must be talking because I can see his lips moving. I just can't hear him. Is this what dying feels like? I hope so badly that this is what dying feels like.

"It's time to go, Ali." His voice sounds like it's coming from everywhere at once and it makes my head throb and my heart beat into my throat. I think I shake my head. I think I yell at him when he touches me. it doesn't matter because I am lifted to my feet and shoved into the corner of the room.

I need to sit down or I'm going to fall over. I try to run back to the table, but there is something blocking me. I run my hands down the invisible wall but there is nowhere for me to get through. How did I get in here? Was this wall always here? It couldn't have been because how would I have gotten in? My head spins and I have to sit down but there is not enough room.

"Launch will commence in one minute."

I yell at the voice coming from nowhere but even I don't know what I'm saying anymore. I don't understand what is going on.

 _This is how it starts, do not panic._ That's what the voice inside of me says, but wait it doesn't sound like my voice. It sounds just like something I have heard before but I have no idea who or what is speaking to me. I clap my hands over my ears but I can still hear it. _The gate will open in thirty seconds. You will see a pile of objects and you will run towards them. Understand, tribute Alastair, listen to my words. They will save you._

But I don't understand, not one bit, and I don't want to listen.

Then, I can no longer see anything behind me except a blank wall. I turn and there is another border behind me, another invisible wall stopping me from moving more than a half step forward. I am no longer inside that safe room. I can no longer see Amos' slight smile. In front of me now I see a pile of things from sharp metal to thick cloth. I can no longer hear Amos's too cheerful chattering. I can only hear the voice of the man from the screen counting back from ten.

* * *

 **Van, 21, Mentor**

* * *

I am unable to peel my eyes away from the screen, or even blink for that matter. This isn't anything like the simulations that I went through to get here. This is real and Shaera is real and she is _really_ in danger and _really_ not listening. I lean forward to call into my microphone again, hoping to see some sort of signal that she is registering my instructions.

"Tribute Shaera," I say as calmly as I can, but my voice still quakes as I speak her name. "In twenty seconds you must run as fast as possible towards the pile of objects."

Still she doesn't say anything in response. Still she only stares directly at the glass wall that blocks her from the arena with eyes wider than should be humanly possible. My hands begin to tremble. There are only fifteen seconds left until the walls restraining the tributes will be lifted. Forty-five seconds until the Gladiators will be released.

I clasp my hands together in front of me. This is my first year as a Mentor, and Shaera is the first tribute that I will lead through the Hunger Games. She listened well when I spoke to her in her room, I thought she would be fine to listen to me when it got to this point too. I underestimated her fear, and maybe my own fear as well.

I have no other choice but to begin the final countdown. I bite my lip and slowly start counting back from ten to the beat of the timer staring at me from my control panel. Still Shaera doesn't move, but I know she will. They always make sure they move. It's not exciting if they don't at least run.

 _Three._

 _Two._

 _One._

My microphone mutes and I sit back in my chair, fingernails digging into the palms of my hands. There is nothing more I can do for her until the Bloodbath is over.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey everyone! No I haven't forgotten about this story, I just had a bit of a medical crisis a couple weeks ago and am just now good enough to be at a computer. Lucky you guys though, because now I will be off all summer with nothing better to do than write fanfiction and cry in pain. How fantastic, right?**

 **Anyways.**

 **If you are confused about the whole Mentor deal, I'll explain it here. The tributes have virtual mentors in this universe, meaning that they are able to speak with the tributes in their heads sometimes and hear/see them all the time. Just another neat idea I came up with during a pain medication induced dream, but I think it'll make things even more interesting. Gladiators do not have mentors since obviously they already know what they are doing. If you want to see the name of the other tributes' mentors you can check out the blog, link is on my profile as always.**

 **Next chapter is the Bloodbath, or this universe's version of it anyways. That means that starting pretty soon these lovely characters are going to start dying off. If you have hard feelings about your tribute dying at any point then you might be just a bit delusional about how these stories work. Still you can hit me up with a message and vent to me/ask me how I could do this to them if you feel the need.**

 **Until next time.**


	14. To Be Brave

_To be brave is to behave_ _bravely when your heart is faint._ _  
_ _So you can be really brave_ _only when you really ain't."_ _  
_ _―_ _Piet Hein_

* * *

 **Bloodbath**

* * *

 **Eloise Bailey, 15, Sector E**

* * *

 _Stay calm, tribute Eloise._

"I-I... Who are you?" I stammer. The voice is clear, but that's the only thing that is. My vision is blurry and my eyes ache from crying. My legs feel like they're going to give out and my arms tremble in front of me against the barrier.

 _Lennon,_ the man tells me in that buttery voice. _You must remain calm and remember what I told you. We will speak again when this is over, tribute Eloise. Countdown from ten for me, darling._

"What do you mean?" I choke out, more to myself than anything. The silence that encompasses my head tells me that he will not be answering me. I think back to what he told me- run to the center and get as many things as I can carry, especially something sharp. I can do that. I think.

Ten. Nine.

I stare between where my hands are pressed against the invisible wall and into the arena- that's what Lennon called it. It looks like the most beautiful place that I have ever seen, but I am terrified all the same. The ground is covered in lush, green grass that is nothing like the dry sheets of grey-green that are scattered around District Zero. In the distance I can see trees, huge one with branches stretching towards the blue sky.

Eight. Seven. Six.

But before the trees I can see the pile of supplies and the other tributes behind their invisible walls. I can't tell which ones are my allies no matter how much I squint.

Five. Four.

I don't know what is about to happen but I know it will be bad. I want Lennon to come back. I want to talk to a real person, or what could be a real person at least. I want someone to go through this with me from the very start.

Three.

I'm scared.

Two.

I don't want to die.

One.

 _Launch initiated._ This voice isn't Lennon's. It belongs to a woman, but I don't even care. It comforts me all the same. That is until the invisible wall begins to move in front of me, slowly downward until a cool breeze hits my face.

"Let the 220th Hunger Games begin!" A cheery voice announces; still not Lennon. Then silence.

Everything begins to move at once. My legs propel me forward without my asking them to, along with all of the others that I recognize from training. I don't think about the tears dripping off of my cheeks. I hardly notice the protest of my legs as I run. I just move.

I grab the handle of something heavy and sharp. I grab a bag even though I don't know what is in it. I grab everything and anything and sling it over my shoulder or onto my arms. I think I kind of register the weight but none of it matters right now. I am terrified and I am moving and those are the only things that matter.

My hand latches onto the handle of another bag at the same time as another girl. Her wild eyes catch mine and she pulls, but I don't let go. The girl towers over me and her pull makes me scramble forward two steps, but I don't let go. Lennon's voice echoes inside my head- I need this. I need this to survive.

I pull back and surprisingly the girl takes a step towards me. Fuelled by only what little bread I had managed to choke down this morning, I yank hard once more on the bag's strap. This time the girl doesn't budge. She looks behind her and when she turns back to me her eyes are frantic.

I don't even feel the knife as it slashes across my stomach. I only feel a sudden cold wash over me, like someone had left the window open in my room in the dead of winter. My hand is still clasped onto the strap, but I don't pull again. My body is frozen no matter the thoughts running through my head.

The girl uses her free hand to push me backwards, hard. I stumble only half a step back before I trip and land on my knees. I have let go of the bag. I realize this as I watch the girl stare down at me for a moment as her lips fall open, then she takes off in the opposite direction towards the reaching trees. I will have to find another bag, I think to myself.

All at once the pain comes. A shooting, sharp kind of pain that radiates across my belly and goes down towards my back. I press my hands to the area and gasp, the pain forcing my hands away. When I pull my hands away they are covered with red, like the time I fell on the pavement and scraped up my palms. Except there is more blood, way more.

I fall down onto my back, not daring to touch my stomach again. My eyes flicker between being open and being closed. Between watching the others run around me, filling their arms with supplies, and seeing nothing but the darkness behind my eyelids. I am impossibly tired, but I don't understand how I could want to sleep when it hurts so much to even breathe.

Someone grabs my hand and I cry out, the movement magnifying the pain in my stomach. I squint my eyes open and see a girl with pale freckles and blonde hair staring down at me, her face twisted in pain. Her lips part as if to speak but I don't hear her say anything. I think she wants to help me. I hope so. I think I need help.

Then she's gone again, and I'm not even sure she was there at all. I try to move my head to look for her, but it won't listen to me. I'm just too tired; I need to sleep. My eyes close and for a moment I can only hear faint footsteps around me, then someone screams but it sounds far away, then I can't hear anything at all.

* * *

 **Pyrrha Cortese, 18, Gladiator**

* * *

I tap my fingertips against the glass, my eyes flickering across the parts of the arena that I can see. I glance up and see that only twenty seconds remain, but each number seems to take forever to change. My team and I are ready; I can already feel the adrenalin building up in my blood.

I can already see one tribute on the ground and I know that Panem will be pleased. The Gladiators were added to ensure that the Hunger Games would be entertaining, but Panem has always loved when tributes joined in. I feel my right hand begin to itch, unused to being without a bow after such a long time holding one. I am eager to put all of Eros' extra practice times to use.

Ten seconds and I will begin the journey I have trained for all my life. It feels like an eternity, but I know it will come. Patience has never been my greatest virtue, but even as I wait I am blanketed in an aura of calm. I have been waiting for this moment since I was a little girl, entering the Academy for the very first time, and now it is seconds away.

Tributes scatter across my vision and I cannot help but smile. Today, these pariahs will finally feel the punishment for their crimes. The true strength of Panem will rain down upon them, and my team will be the ones to deliver justice. With the power that Panem and the Capitol have bestowed on us, we will make them pay for what they've done.

* * *

 **Alanis Marcham, 14, Sector H**

* * *

I see them creep into the corners of my vision and I immediately know what they are.

 _Gladiators._ They are not like the tributes, not in the way they move or in the expressions that cross their faces when they look towards us. I know instantly that I have to get out of here, and I quickly scan the area for Topher and Kaelyn. I don't see Kaelyn but within seconds I can see Topher running around the supply pile towards me.

I open my mouth to call to him, but the words die on my lips when I see the girl behind him. She is much faster than Topher, most likely much faster than any of us. I am unable to move, unable to cry out for Topher, unable to do _anything_ except stare across the grass as one of the Capitol's best fighters gains ground on my ally.

She is on him within seconds, snatching him right out of the air with one hand on his neck. I am shaking from head to toe, but I can't bring myself to look away. I catch his eyes, the terror in them pleading with me to do something, but I don't move. How could I? She could catch me just as fast, if not faster, than she did him. I shake my head and his lips fall open, just seconds before the Gladiator flips his body towards the ground with a sound that makes my heart skip a beat.

I plead with myself not to look, but no part of me seems to be able to listen. His body faces the trees behind him, but his neck is turned at an impossible angle that allows his head to still be facing me. His expression is frozen, his eyes no longer looking at me but instead staring at something off in the distance behind me. I want to believe that he is going to jump up and run towards me, but as the second tick by I realize that he can no longer do that.

I am no stranger to death, having seen it in the eyes of the older adults in the mornings before the Peacekeepers could move the bodies. This, though, this isn't like those times when I passed by and stared with a mix of curiosity and pity. No, this time I knew his name. This time I know what his voice sounds like when he talks about home. This time the look of death on his young face causes my heart to shatter within my chest.

It's the weight in my hand that brings me back to the arena. I force my eyes away from my ally and focus on the tree line behind me. This is what Monroe told me, to grab as much as I could before the Gladiators were released and then get away. I ignored him the first time, thinking of Topher and Kaelyn, but not now.

For all I know Kaelyn is laying just on the other side of the supply pile, her eyes as dead as his. That image alone is enough for me to listen to Monroe and just get out with what I have.

I don't have the time to think about what direction to head. I just turn and run towards the nearest tree line, hoping that no one will follow me. Just before I disappear between the thick trunks of two trees I chance a look behind me. I see at least three bodies on the ground including Topher. I wish I hadn't looked.

The trees are close enough together that I think it will be easy to get out of view of the Gladiators. I'm not scared of running into another tribute, in fact I almost hope that I will. As I weave between the trees whose branches reach so far up I cannot even see the treetops, I can feel my heartbeat begin to settle down.

I continue walking. I don't know how big this place is but right now it feels endless. On either side I can see only tree trunks and fallen branches, up ahead is the same view. I imagine it would be very easy to get lost in this place, but you can't get lost if you don't have a destination in mind to begin with.

I keep walking.

A bird call makes me jump and I duck down behind the nearest tree trunk. It takes a moment for my panic to clear enough to realize what the sound was. It takes another moment to locate the bird- a black crow like the ones that sometimes sit on the tops of guard towers in District Zero. The way it seems to watch me isn't at all like the birds I have seen before. Its eyes feel almost human staring down at me.

I pick up my pace, my mind telling me how silly it is to be afraid of a crow but my body not caring. I just want to get away from it and its human-like eyes, but once I have seen one crow I see many more. Most of them sitting in the high branches, but some like the first are in the lower branches that are less than ten feet above my head. I stop counting the crows and duck my head down.

 _I don't need to be scared of them_ , I tell myself, _they're only stupid birds._

* * *

 **Decker Vanes, 15, Sector F**

* * *

I am shaking so hard that I don't make it as far as I tried to.

I collapse at the base of a tree thicker than my waist, my legs giving out without warning. I wanted to get far, far away from this. As far as I could run until I fell asleep standing up or simply dropped from exhaustion. I can still hear the others, I didn't get nearly far enough to quiet those sounds.

Whatever just happened wasn't anything like I thought it would be. I knew the rules, I knew what we were expected to do come today, but I don't think I really thought it was possible. Until now at least. Now I know it's very possible, in fact it's happening just out of my view. People are dying, people who were alive just a few minutes ago. How could this actually be happening?

Alvita told me to get supplies and run, but I couldn't do it. Not after seeing one of the bigger boys drag that blonde girl away from her pod and put a huge knife through her chest. I couldn't stay after seeing this, no matter how much I needed those supplies. I couldn't stop the image of myself in her place, skewered to the ground and still alive to feel every second of it.

I hope she died by now.

I shudder at the thought, but it's true. She was still alive when I ran, but there was no way she would live through that. I don't imagine anyone would even want to. If she died by now it'd be better because then she wouldn't be feeling all that pain. I can't imagine how much pain she must have been in... or could be in right now.

I cry out when someone invades the little pocket I have made myself. It isn't a stretch to think that the Gladiators have finally found me here, maybe even the same one that killed that girl. Am I just going to be someone else's awful memory? Haunt them like the girl's scream has already haunted me?

The relief is unlike any feeling I have ever had when I see that it is Griffin. I run to him and throw my arms around him despite myself. This time he is the one that yells out, obviously he hadn't seen me. He shakes me off of him and I land at his feet. When he looks down at me I gasp. There in his arm is... is something that shouldn't be there. I don't know the word for it but I saw some a few days ago.

"Fucking girl shot me with a fucking arrow," Griffin grunts, holding his arm at the shoulder as if he is afraid to touch it. That's what that is- an arrow. In his arm. I can feel the colour fade from my face and I force myself to look away. It's no use, the image is branded onto my mind. Blood drips down onto the grass beside me and I scramble a few feet away on my hands and knees.

"Decker?" Griffin says finally as if he only just noticed that I am here.

"Hi."

"Do you have first aid stuff?" He asks, pointing at the arrow in case maybe I hadn't seen it. My eyes travel back to his arm and the faint feeling comes back in a hurry.

I turn away and shake my head. "I couldn't get anything."

"Fuck," he huffs. "I had a bunch of stuff but I dropped them because, well because this hurts like hell."

"It looks like it," I say, making sure that I do not look directly at the wound again. Should we be pulling that thing out of his arm? Is that my job? If I have to go any closer to him I think I'm going to be sick so there is no way I can do that.

"I saw the others still at the supply pile," he says calmly, well at least one of us can be calm right now. "I pointed in here so they shouldn't be long. We got to get out of here and quick. I don't think that girl is going to miss twice. I saw her wreck that little boy a few minutes ago. I do not want to be anywhere near that thing."

I nod quickly. I could not agree more. We need to get as far away from this place as we can and soon.

Seconds later Demetra and Everett run through the trees, nearly missing us entirely. Griffin pulls me up with his good arm and we take off after them, knowing it is probably best not to ask exactly what we are running from. We pass by so many trees that look identical that it looks like we are not making any ground at all. Everything looks the same, even the colours of the leaves are too perfectly the same.

Finally we stop, Demetra and Everett huffing against tree trunks while I collapse next to Griffin on the cool grass. That's when I guess Demetra and Everett finally get a good look at Griffin, because both of their faces pale within seconds.

"Are you okay?" Demetra gasps, rushing to his side to get a good look at the place where the arrowhead disappears into his arm. "Oh my... that is deep. Decker, find something to cover this with. Maybe something to wipe it with, I don't know."

I scramble to loom through the two backpacks that Demetra had laid down beside me and Everett kneels to look in the one that had been hanging on his shoulder. A few minutes later and I hand Demetra a bunch of white bandage and a container that smells like alcohol. She tells Griffin to bite down on his sweater and, without telling him why, she yanks the arrow from his arm. I have to lay down and stare up at the trees to keep my stomach settled.

Griffin is notably trembling but says that we should keep going. Demetra is insistent that we have gone far enough and that he has to be careful because he is still bleeding even several minutes later. I don't offer my opinion, not that I really have one.

Demetra looks paler than Griffin and keeps asking him if he is okay. I suggest that maybe she should sit down, but she just shoots me a look. She looks more freaked out than any of us and I wonder if maybe she was hurt too. I had seen some blood on her sleeve when I first saw her, but with her this on edge I'm afraid to even ask.

* * *

 **Blair Myles, 18, Sector J**

* * *

I take back what I originally thought- this place is beyond creepy.

We've been walking for what could have been hours or could have even been just a few minutes. Everything in this place looks the same, tall trees, fallen branches and leaves, patches of green grass and sticky mud. Nothing has caught my eye since we left the launch pods, well, nothing but the birds.

I could swear they are everywhere, staring down at us from the high up branches. Their eyes seem to look between us, but they never look away. I have never seen any kind of animal do this, especially not birds. It makes my skin crawl.

Cadria leans her head against my shoulder and I can't help but flinch, her weight aggravating the pain in my side. I'm not sure why it hurts, I must have hit it against something, but now that my adrenalin has died down it is throbbing.

Cadria moves her head up and for the first time since we reached the trees I get a good look at her face. Her cheeks and eyes are both red and puffy from crying, but at least she has stopped sobbing. I didn't think she would ever stop, but I didn't have the heart to tell her so.

"I'm sorry," she sniffles. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," I say, not quite lying. "Are you alright."

She nods. "I am."

"I was worried," I say, unaware that it is true until the words leave my lips. I had only met Cadria once and seen her on the screen in my room a handful of time, but she had never cried. In fact she was almost annoyingly positive, though quiet about it at least. She's changed already, but I don't blame her. What she saw during the launch was horrifying- that girl stabbed by one of the other tributes and just left on the ground to die. It hurt to tear Cadria away from her when all she wanted to do was help, but I had to. There was nothing she could have done to help that girl, and she could have been killed just as easily if we'd stayed.

"I just wanted to help," she says, the crack in her voice impossible to miss.

"I know, but there was nothing you could have done."

"I could have tried," she argues and I can see the tears welling up again. "I can't believe one of us did that."

I can't believe it myself, but I don't want to fuel this conversation any more than I already have. It's true, that the first death was caused by one of the tributes- something that I could not have imagined would happen. It was the Gladiators that were supposed to be sent in here to kill us. We're not trained for this, we're not killers. At least I didn't think we were. Now I'm not so sure. If that girl could kill maybe all of us have the potential to. I shudder at the thought. I could never do that.

"Why didn't we wait for Aislinn and Shaera?"

I swallow thickly. I had been thinking the same thing for a while, well about Aislinn anyway. I had seen what happened to Shaera when I left Cadria in the forest to try and find our other two allies. I saw that Gladiator girl pull her away from where she had been hiding in her launch pod. I saw her put a knife in her chest. I didn't see anything after that I just ran.

I left Aislinn behind. I didn't even think to look for her until we were far away from that place. I couldn't convince myself to go back for her.

"I didn't see them when I went back," I lie. "Maybe we'll run into them if we're lucky."

"I hope so," she says softly and I could almost swear by the tone of her voice that she knew.

We continue walking in silence. I am scared that if I keep talking that she will hear it in my voice, the regret and guilt that I feel about our allies. As awful as it is for me to think, I hope that we never run into Aislinn so that I never have to tell Cadria about what I have done. She would never look at me the same or rest her head on my shoulder. It would disgust her to know that I abandoned one of our allies and watched the other die.

The sound of cannon fire drops us both to our knees and we scramble under a fallen branch that could never have hid us from anything. Cadria lays on the ground next to me and I put one arm over her in a poor attempt to defend her. Another loud boom shakes the arena and we tense. A third, a fourth, a fifth; none of them are easier on our ears.

The air goes silent and I breathe a sigh of relief. Cadria sits up on her elbows and asks me what that was. I don't have an answer for her, no matter how much I wish I did.

A minute later and the familiar tune of the Panem national anthem begins to play, filling the air around us and quieting the calls of crows that have followed us throughout the day. It is a comforting sound, no matter how sombre I find the song to be; maybe because it reminds me of home.

"Today Panem mourns the five who have fallen and celebrates the courage of the eighteen whom will continue on in the Hunger Games."

The voice is familiar, and I realize halfway through the announcement that it is the Game Master. My blood goes cold, remembering the slippery voice from the train on the day I realized that I was being taken from my home. His voice lulls me into a kind of trance. There is only his voice and the sound of my own breathing. I can no longer feel Cadria's arm digging into my side, only the steady drumming of my heart.

He begins to say names, pausing as an image appears across the sky which has darkened in the past minute. The first two I don't recognize, but the third makes my chest feel heavy once more.

" _Shaera Hanslok, District Zero, Sector G."_

The picture of her is the one that I saw last night, when we had been allowed to talk from our rooms. I can only hold back the tears for a few seconds before they begin to run down my cheeks. The image of Shaera is nothing like the panicked face I saw during the launch. In the sky she looks almost bored, like she was on kitchen duty back home and not lying dead on the grass.

" _Alastair Caine, District Zero, Sector I."_

" _Aislinn Keymar, District Zero, Sector B."_

The tears come harder when I hear her name. I can hardly see her image before the tears blur my vision. Beside me I can hear Cadria sobbing, louder than she did after I tore her away from that girl- Eloise Bailey. This is a different kind of pain than Eloise caused. This is personal, we knew Aislinn and Shaera; we talked to them, made plans with them, and now they're gone. This is what we were told about on that train and over again in our rooms at night, but it was never real until now.

We're really going to die in this place, and nobody is going to do anything to stop it.

* * *

 _ **Eloise Bailey, Sector E**_

 _ **Topher Darosa, Sector J**_

 _ **Shaera Hanslok, Sector G**_

 _ **Alastair Caine, Sector I**_

 _ **Aislinn Keymar, Sector B**_

* * *

 **A/N: Hey people. I hope you enjoyed the Bloodbath or this verse's version of it anyway. I hope everything made enough sense that you could tell what is going on, but I'm open to explaining if you need me to.**

 **The carnage has started and five tributes are dead already with no sign of the deaths slowing down at any point in the future. There will likely not be any 'no death' chapters in this story because I have a lot of things to get through in only a few chapters. I have planned for ten arena chapters including this one, but that very well could change.**

 **These five tributes were chosen for many reasons, but none of those reasons were that I disliked the tribute. To be honest, none of them had a future plot in this story and some were killed to inspire plots in other tributes. I would apologize for killing them, but honestly you all should know how this works by now and not take it too personally.**

 **Next chapter could be in a few days or in a few weeks, who knows at this point. I'm not even sure people are reading this to be honest, so maybe I rush for nothing. Dunno, but hopefully the next one will be out soon.**

 **That's all for now!**


	15. The Living

" _When the dead are done with the living, the living can go on to other things," Franny said. "What about the dead?" I asked. "Where do we go?"_ _  
_ _―_ _Alice Sebold_ _,_ _The Lovely Bones_

* * *

 **Arena Day Two**

* * *

 **Klay Deravel, 18, Sector E**

* * *

She comes back to me in my dreams.

Tova and Eloise, neither distinguished from the other, playing different parts in the murder that I witnessed. Each time they turn to me, their faces painted in horror and their eyes pleading me to intervene. Each time I find myself frozen in place, unable to get to her. Each time, I watch her die with different faces. My sister and my ally, again and again until the taste of blood wakes me.

My eyes fly open and I just barely manage to stifle the scream that is building in my throat. My body is shaking with sweat underneath my many layers of fabric and the taste of blood becomes even stronger.

The room around me is dark; the only light comes from the dim stars that shine in the sky above me. The memory of where I am hits me like a punch in the gut and a new sense of dread washes over me. I am not in my room in District Zero at all. I am someplace much, much worse.

I am no longer tired.

Exhaustion took me over just a short while after I saw Eloise in the sky, along with four others that must have shared her fate. I hoisted myself up into the low hanging branch of a tree with the energy that I still had, and that's all I remember. I peer down at the ground and that assures me that I am where my memories left me.

I don't know what I am supposed to do now. I did not manage to get anything from the supply pile except for a knife with a blade no longer than my hand. I don't think I would have had even this much if I hadn't grabbed it before I saw Eloise. After that there was no chance of me sticking around.

 _I left,_ the thought strikes me like a hand to the face. _I left her and she died there thinking I abandoned her. Well, I guess I did abandon her._

I squint my eyes as hard as I can to stop the tears from falling. Eloise depended on me and I left her behind, but what was I supposed to do. That girl would have killed me too if I had tried to help, and then she would have died anyway. That doesn't make me a bad person. I cared for her almost like I cared for my sister but I have to protect myself first. I always have and I always will.

Would I have left Tova behind if it had been her?

My heart tells me I wouldn't have, but my head tells me differently. My kid sister with her shining eyes and careless chatter, I couldn't have left her behind. I abandoned Eloise but she wasn't Tova, no matter how much I wanted her to be back in the Capitol.

She was nothing more than a stand in for my sister and right now I can do nothing but hate her for it. If I would have never met Eloise I would have had strong allies that could take care of themselves. I wouldn't feel bad for leaving them because they should have fought harder or wanted to live more. I hate that I feel bad for her, I only met this girl a few days ago and somehow I care for her almost as much as my family.

How could I have been so stupid?

I slam my fist into the tree trunk behind me. I have always been number one in my own eyes and that is how it has to be if I want to see Tova again. I have to win this fucked up game and get back to my sister, the only person that should ever warrant my protection. I will never make the mistake of caring for anyone in this place, not again.

Not if they're going to die like Eloise.

The anger finally begins to drain out of me and I slump back into the crook of the branch. I try to push the feeling away, but there is no denying it. The loneliness has been something I have lived with, but thoughts of Eloise and Tova have brought it back to the forefront. I have always lived a very egocentric lifestyle because it was easiest for me. The people that I could relate to, people who work in a dangerous field like mine, don't stick around for very long. They're all caught eventually and taken away. I couldn't deal with that, not when I was young and not now.

The loneliness has become almost a comfort; it shows me that I am still capable of feeling even after shutting down for so long. Now it feels like a burning in my chest that is slowly setting fire to my body from within. Part of me knows it's dangerous but so much of me wants to try.

I have been alone for so long. Sure I had family but they were blissfully unaware of the things I went through every day. I have never had a friend for the sole reason of having a friend. There has always been something behind it, some need to use the friend.

That's the kind of friend I need now. The kind that I should have made back in the Capitol. Someone that can take care of themselves and will help me to survive in this place until the time comes for me to escape.

The possibility of that happening is slim, but if there is some way for it to happen I will make it happen. I will find a useful friend and I will get out of this place. These are the two promises I make to myself before I climb down from my tree and set off to find something to eat.

* * *

 **Everett Montclair, 15, Sector H**

* * *

"What _exactly_ are we looking for?"

I look to my side and sure enough Decker is smiling at me as usual. The guy hasn't left my side for more than a few minutes since we all met up. I'm sure he just doesn't want to miss the moment when I heroically save us all from the death trap that is this arena. I just hope he isn't opposed to waiting a little bit for that great escape. Just until I figure out a way to make it happen.

Yes, I did make up the whole 'I know a way to get us all out of this' thing, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to try. I have to make it look authentic at least, but hey if I can really make it happen I would be pretty impressed with myself. These three are counting on me and I'd love to not let them down, but so far it looks like that might be unavoidable.

"You'll know when you see it," I tell him. That's what I have been going with, no matter how stupid it sounds. We've been walking since the sun came up and Demetra shook me awake and demanded we start the escape plan immediately. I would have preferred to sleep for a couple hours past dawn, but she has been pretty irritated lately.

It must have something to do with the girl she murdered.

That's the only thing I have going for me right now is that I know and neither Griffin or Decker seem to. Obviously I plan to tell them, but it will just be a matter of finding the best possible time. Maybe when Demetra eventually figures out that my plan was a lie and I need the other two on my side to take her down. By the looks of it Griffin and Decker are both pretty invested in this plan of mine. I don't think they would abandon it even if Demetra tried to.

At least Decker won't. I have him for sure, like I said he hasn't left my side and he keeps asking random questions about where we're going and what I'm going to do when we get there. I have tried to be as nonspecific as possible, but I'm actually starting to feel a little bad about lying to him.

Not that bad though, without me he would either be cowered somewhere in these trees or dead. I gave him hope, even if it's fake that has to count for something. The others have something, or rather someone, to trust in and we're all still alive. A good day all around if I do say so myself.

"Everett!"

I turn around and see Demetra helping Griffin to the ground. The guy is pretty messed up, especially after Demetra yanked that arrow from his arm. He hasn't stopped shaking since late last night, but if anyone mentions anything he doesn't want to hear it. I'm glad for the constant breaks, don't get me wrong, but he's still getting on my nerves. I'm over everyone paying attention to him all the time. I'm the one getting us out of here as far as they know, they should be busy hanging on my every word or something.

I turn around and walk over to where Griffin is laying and Demetra is squatting next to him. Decker has already taken up his place on Griffin's other side and I stand beside him. I have to admit, Griffin isn't looking good. His skin is so pale I can see the veins in his neck, and the wrap around his arm is soaked in a mixture of yellow-green pus and lots of blood. Demetra assured us that she can take care of him, but she doesn't seem to be doing a very good job.

"Maybe you should, uh, change his wrap," I say and Demetra shoots me a look. I roll my eyes, but if she sees me she pretends not to.

As Demetra begins to fiddle with the clean edges of his bandage I ease myself down to rest against a nearby tree. I'm not exactly into seeing Griffin's nasty gash again, so I focus my attention on the edge of the trees. We've about reached the fourth of what Decker has been calling the 'arena rings'- strips of yellow, tall grass that separate the strips of giant tree clusters. As much as I would love to know why stuff keeps changing, I really can't bring myself to care.

"Oh my..." Demetra stammers and something drops loudly to the ground.

I can't help myself, I turn to see what the big fuss is about and about three seconds later I regret every move that brought me to this point. The bandage has been removed from Griffin's arm, and the gash is nothing like how it looked yesterday. What used to be a deep, red cut that you could nearly see down into has filled with thick, yellow-green pus. The skin that had been covered by the wrap is puffy and an angry red, and the whole thing is enough to turn my stomach. Decker gets the same feeling, obviously, and he retches the contents of his stomach onto the grass beside him.

"D-Does it look okay?" Griffin asks and I have to physically put my hand over my mouth to stop myself from telling him he is going to die. The wound is absolutely disgusting, and nothing about it looks 'okay'. Demetra, however, either has decided to lie to him or doesn't understand a damn thing about medicine.

"It's draining," she coughs. "It isn't nearly as bad as it looks."

This time I shoot her a look that silently asks her if she has gone completely insane. She doesn't even take the time to respond, only quickly pulls out her half-empty water bottle and pours most of it over the gash. Griffin clenches a fist behind his head until the new bandage has been secured over his arm.

* * *

 **Leighton Shaller, 18, Sector C**

* * *

I don't know how to shake the feeling that has been weighing over my head since the night before we got into this place. It feels like there is literally someone pressing a cement block onto my head, making each move cost more effort than it should. Moving at all feels pointless, but I force myself through every step.

I don't want to let Ingo and Quentin down, but I just can't keep going with the cheerful banter that seems to come so naturally even now. I wish that I could ignore the complicated mix of fear, dread, sadness, grief, and anxiety that hurricanes around me, but I can't. I haven't spoken more than a couple words since we saw the faces in the sky last night.

I look to my side and catch Ingo looking at me with that half-smile he always wears. He looks like he might even say something, but I break the eye contact before he has a chance. I watch him sigh out of the corner of my eye and it makes my chest tighten. He doesn't understand why I'm being like this, he said so last night, but that's just the thing. He doesn't and wouldn't understand.

The Capitol was my home for the first six years of my life, along with my father and his girlfriend. Then, one day a bunch of Peacekeepers came to our front door and my father told me to answer it. I had hardly had a chance to turn the knob before the lot of them stormed in and found my father halfway out his bedroom window. They said he was being arrested for sexual assault of a minor, seven counts, and took both of us to the train station. We were shipped out to Zero and I lived with him until I was eight.

He got at least ten more counts of assault that they never heard about before I found the nerve to leave.

The Capitol was my home and those people that were on our screens and in our rooms were my people. I had always dreamed that someday I would return home, to my real home and not the hell hole I had grown up in. My dream came true when I saw that gold banner. My dream shattered into a thousand pieces when I realized why i had been brought here.

My own people wanted me dead. I had heard it in the many voices that had followed me into the helicopter. I had heard it in the voice of my assistant immediately before the launch. They wanted me to die for what I had done, when all I had done was been born to a disgusting father who'd had the stupidity to get caught.

The Capitol I had dreamed of on those nights when I slept in stranger's rooms to avoid the streets was nothing like the six-year old me remembered. They were monsters, taking us from our miserable lives and putting us in this arena to die. All of my childhood dreams, everything I had ever wanted, was a lie.

I am not even sure what's left of me after this was taken from me. Everything rested on the hope that one day they would realize their mistake and bring me home. Now I know that home is no safer than the room I shared with my father.

"You look deep in thought."

I look up and see Ingo walking backwards in front of me. I force a slight smile, but I know how fake it must look to him. "I'm not into talking right now."

"Then let me talk," he says simply. "I know this is shitty and you have every reason to be in this funk, but we have a chance. All of us could make it if we play our cards right. I just don't want you to keep thinking that we're all dead men walking because we're not giving in without a fight."

"That's not what I was thinking," I say with far more venom than I meant. Ingo's face drops and I know I've made a mistake, but I'm not even certain I care. I just want to be ignored right now while I work this out in my mind. They're not helping with these stupid pep talks. They don't even know why I'm upset and it's pissing me off that they keep assuming.

"Stop," Quentin says, the word cutting through the tension in the air as swiftly as a blade. I am about to say something but I stop when the sound reaches my ears. Footsteps, and definitely not ours. I stare at Quentin, too afraid to even breath much less come up with a plan.

Ingo pushes me towards a tree and I take the hint. It takes much more effort than I thought it would, but second later I am a few branches up and working my way towards a hold in the trunk that looks like I might fit into it. I look back before I slip into it, but I don't see either of the boys. Good, that means they won't see them either.

I steady myself inside the little cave, nestling myself as far back as possible so that no one passing by will be able to spot the dark red of my toque. It is such a small space that I have to rest my chin on my knees, but I am too afraid to feel uncomfortable.

"I heard them, I'm certain." A girl's voice cuts through my tiny cave and I hold my breath. It's not a voice I recognize, but immediately it fills me with more fear than I have felt in a while.

"They could not have gone far, then." This time the voice belongs to a boy, but it's just as cold if not more so. I know by the feeling in my chest that these must be the Gladiators. I don't think any of the tributes would speak in this way, not unless they had grown up in the Capitol. Their voice reminds me too much of the accent my father had for them to be from anywhere else.

It's more than a few minutes before their footsteps disappear, and it takes many times long than that before someone knocks on my tree and I dare to peek one eye out. It's Ingo, and Quentin is a few feet behind him. Both of them look about as terrified as I feel.

I get to the ground and Ingo lays a hand on my shoulder, the closest thing I think he would ever get to giving me a hug. Quentin steps toward us, a smile taking over his face before he finally reaches us.

"Oh Panem, we just outsmarted the freaking Gladiators!"

* * *

 **Kaelyn Powell, 13, Sector D**

* * *

The burning in my chest is hardly noticeable over the adrenalin pumping through my veins. Each step I take is the best combination of speed and silence that I can come up with, but the sound of my steps still echoes through the trees. The only thought that runs through my mind is that they're coming.

The Gladiators are coming.

I had been asleep when I heard them approaching, but they clearly weren't trying to be quiet. Their footsteps travelled through the arena and I knew they were headed in my direction before they had even crossed the strip of tall grass that lay behind me. I didn't trust the little cave I had found in the trunk of a tree to keep me hidden enough for them to pass by me. I ran before I even really had a plan as to where I was going.

There was a moment when I wished that I still had Alanis with me. She would have known what to do to make sure they couldn't find us. The thought was fleeting, though, because the memory was so fresh in my mind. She had been only ten feet from Topher before he died, and she hadn't even tried to help him.

Now I am alone and on the run. I have paused at least three or four times to see if they're still coming and they always were. This time I paused for only a second or two. They were definitely coming, and they were closer than ever. My heart lurched into my throat, knowing that they were catching up but not running.

They are toying with me. If they had wanted to they could have caught me a long time ago. I saw them run during the launch; I would bet money that they are faster than each and every one of the tributes including me. This is the only thing I have going for me, that they don't want to make this a quick catch.

I have to hide. I scan the trees around me for something that might be a decent hiding spot. If I can hide well enough they will never find me, and that would mean that they can't kill me. It has to be somewhere small, somewhere that they wouldn't think a tribute would be able to fit. If they haven't gotten a good look at me they might not know how small I am. I can outsmart them if I work fast enough. I know I can.

I duck underneath of a large fallen branch and roll myself into a tight ball. The leaves cascade over me on all sides and I know I am hidden from anyone passing by. I just have to hope that no one decides to look under here, but even so it is dark enough that I might be able to stay hidden even then. I wish I had a darker hat colour, my beige one could give me away. I consider for a second removing it entirely, but the closeness of the footsteps stops me from moving a single muscle.

I hear the footsteps stop nearby and I hold my breath. I think back to when I hid from the recons in the cupboard in the kitchen and the moment that they found me. This time they cannot find me, because the punishment will be much worse. Last time they took me from my home and the only people I could lean on. This time they will kill me. I cannot move. I cannot breathe. I must absolutely disappear in their eyes.

"Their foot prints stopped back there." A male voice says and I nearly flinch. They are so close.

"There was mud back there," a second male voice says. "If they were light enough we wouldn't see their footsteps in the grass."

"Then where do you propose we search?" The first voice asks.

"Split up," the second voice replies. "Odin, you search here. Pyrrha run up ahead and yell if you spot anyone. I will circle back. Listen for the signal."

I hear two sets of footsteps take off in opposite directions and I am left with only the one. This is better, maybe one won't be as thorough as three. It's dark too, maybe they'll get tired and give up. A thousand hopes run through my mind, but over them I can hear the heavy steps as he searches around me. I can no longer hold my breath, so I breathe as little as I can and as silently as I can.

I don't know how long I stay curled up under the branch. My legs begin to cramp, but I don't dare move. It has been a long enough time, maybe they will leave soon. Maybe they really won't find me.

The branch lifts from the opposite side and I bite my cheek to keep from gasping. I can see the outline of him illuminated by the moon. I close my eyes, hoping that he will not be able to see the whites of my eyes.

After what seems like forever the branch lowers back down on top of me. For a moment I am certain that he must have seen me; he had been staring right at me how could he have not. I listen for him to call to the others but he doesn't. There are no sounds but footsteps; one pair and then two. One of the others have given up.

"There was nothing back there," the nameless voice says to the one he called Odin. "They must have gone in here or up ahead."

"I didn't see anyone," Odin says, his voice as flat and cold as ever. He really didn't see me, but how could that be?

"Did you hear Pyrrha? Has she come back?" The nameless one asks.

"No," Odin replies. "Maybe we should go up and help her."

"I want to have a look around here first, just to make sure you didn't miss them."

"Do you really think I would miss a tribute, Eros?"

"No, but Pyrrha will be pissed if we don't find someone. We've been chasing leads all day and still nothing to show for it."

"Fine, go for it."

The two footsteps start again, but I am not nearly as afraid as last time. Ylia always said that what is meant to be will be, and we can do little to stop fate. If they were meant to find me they would have by now. I am not confident in that, but it comforts me to remember Ylia's daily prattles, even if they seemed pointless at the time. Now they are one of the only things that is keeping me from completely flipping out.

"Help me lift this." It's the voice called Eros this time, and he is right on top of me. I know before the branch even lifts that he is talking about my hiding spot. He has found me, and this time I don't know if I will be as lucky.

"You can't get it yourself?"

"It's an order, Odin."

The branch lifts up from both sides and seconds later a strong hand grasps me around the wrist and pulls me out from under it. I don't even think to struggle, but it wouldn't have helped me any if I did. I am staring at the smirking face of a Gladiator, and I know that my fate is not going to be what I'd hoped it would.

In one swift move he throws me to the ground where I land on my stomach. The wind is knocked out of me and I choke out a shallow breath. It doesn't take any thought for me to scramble to my feet, but he knocks me down again with something like a laugh. I don't try to get up a second time.

"Just kill her, Eros," Odin growls. "She's a little one."

"She's a _tribute_."

I watch as the two boys stare at each other for a long time, but I don't have it in me to try to get away again. Suddenly I am exhausted and I notice that the sun is just starting to stretch through the tree leaves. It's nearly morning, and it was completely dark when I first ran from them. I'd evaded them for a few hours at least.

"Fine," Eros says, and his eyes turn down to me. The smirk returns to his face and I am too frozen in fear to run or cry or beg or do anything.

I close my eyes and I feel a sharp pain flourish at the back of my skull. Then it's like it's gone as soon as I feel it. I was and then I wasn't, just like that.

* * *

 **Odin Jurado, 18, Gladiator**

* * *

I don't know when Pyrrha appears, but when I look over she is standing right beside me. Just like Eros, she has an almost proud look on her face and the whole scene makes my stomach churn. I know that Eros and Pyrrha have been trained in the Gladiator way since they were born, but I remember a time before.

I was seven when I entered the Academy, much older than most of the others that were training there. Eros began when he was four, and Pyrrha when she was three. Both were wards of the state and had been chosen for this life. I had been chosen, but in a much different way.

I ended up at the Academy when my father was sent to District Zero. The ones that charged him told him that I could remain in the Capitol with his permission, since I looked like such a strong young boy. He wanted so badly for me to stay out of District Zero that he would have agreed to anything they offered. I'm not sure that they told him where I would be staying. I'm not sure it would have changed his mind if he knew.

Very few people know how I really ended up in the Academy. Most assume that I, like my team members, am a ward of the state. Eros and Pyrrha know some of the truth, that I was given up by my family. They don't know why he did it and I won't tell them.

I never wanted to be chosen for the Hunger Games, but it was exactly what Pyrrha and Eros desired. They wanted to punish the tributes for the crimes that landed them in District Zero. They don't know the truth about the tributes; that many of them have done nothing wrong beyond being born to a criminal. They don't know that I could have ended up there.

I don't want to kill the tributes, but it is what I must do. They will die no matter what I do, because Eros and Pyrrha are all too happy to do it themselves. As long as I am with my team, I will do everything I can to have tributes die humanely- the way I would have wanted to die if I were a tribute instead of a Gladiator.

* * *

 _ **Kaelyn Powell, Sector D**_

* * *

 **A/N: Well that wasn't too long. I really am enjoying writing these tributes and their plots, which makes updating a lot easier than usual. Hopefully the fast updates aren't too much for the readers still left.**

 **RIP to my little one Kaelyn. She was a great one to write as I have always been a sucker for the young ones. Kaelyn was a wonderful character, but I never saw her getting very far after her inevitable split from Alanis. She will be missed and thank you, Tyler for sending her in.**

 **I have been considering posting a sequel to this story in the near(ish) future, when I'm in a better place to get it going. Trouble is I am unsure if there is still a place for SYOT-type stories on this site. I will be posting a poll on my profile just to get an idea of whether or not I would be able to get enough submissions to get it going. If you could go and vote on it I would really appreciate!**

 **That's all for now, shouldn't be terribly long before I update again.**


	16. I'm Not Afraid

" _I'm going to die whatever you do, but I'm not afraid."_ _  
_ _―_ _Erin Hunter_ _,_ _Rising Storm_

* * *

 **Arena Day Three**

* * *

 **Micah Theron, 18, Sector B**

* * *

I made a big mistake not sticking to the plan to meet up with Klay. I was supposed to catch his eye and tell him where I was headed so that he and Eloise would be able to find me and we could set off together. After I saw what happened to Eloise I decided in a split second not to go through with the plan. I didn't think he would welcome me without Eloise there to connect us. I thought he might have turned me away.

I should have taken that chance. Maybe I was wrong and we would have still gone off together even without Eloise. Maybe he even searched for me after the launch. Maybe we could have mourned Eloise together instead of apart.

I'll never know because I am certain I will never find him now.

This arena is too big. The trees and branches and grasses are all the same no matter where you go. Strip of trees and then strip of yellow grass, one after the other in all directions. I have walked through the layers hoping to see what might be beyond them. I am starting to think there is no end to this place.

Yesterday I discovered that I have been walking slightly upward. Not very much, but just enough to feel it in my calves. I wonder if I had gone the other direction if I would have been walking down; it would have been much easier than walking up. I considered walking the other way, but I didn't want to change direction. I am going to find the end of the arena, if there even is an end.

Jovan couldn't tell me anything about the arena. All he has been saying is that I should gather resources and ensure that I have a safe, hidden place to sleep at night. I haven't heard from him in hours, but I rather enjoy the silence. His voice in my head makes me feel like I'm going completely insane.

I stop mid step. The feeling in my feet has changed, almost like the ground is moving very, very fast and I just can't see it. This is different; it's exciting and terrifying at the same time. After a slight pause the excitement wins and I take off with newfound energy.

It doesn't take long before I see them. I recognize train tracks identical to the ones that line the outskirts of District Zero. We were never allowed near them, but sometimes we saw the trains stop in front of Sector B to pick up people or crates. I remain hidden in the layer of bushes that lines the outer part of the tracks, unsure how close I should be getting. I want to get a better look at the tracks, but where there are tracks there are sure to be trains. I sure don't want to get on the wrong end of one of those.

The train comes into my view a minute or so later, moving rather slowly but silently. The sides are lined with windows and doors, all of which are wide open. If I wanted to I could easily jump on board and head off to wherever it is headed. I consider it for only a moment before I realize it can't be a good idea. This train is different, it doesn't belong in this place. It doesn't feel like a good idea.

The train slides past me and I sink down further into the bushes. I watch every window and door, looking for some sort of sign that there is someone on board but there is none. After the train passes by I slowly emerge from the bushes and step towards the silver tracks.

I walk along the thick lines. Just being this close to them makes me shiver in fear, but also shake with excitement. After so many days of seeing the same things it's strange to see something so different and so out of place. The arena is all nature and this is all manmade. It doesn't feel right that they are this close together. It feels like the train and its tracks are overstepping their boundaries.

I don't know how long I keep walking along the tracks, but the train doesn't come back around. I don't even really know what I'm looking for or if I'm simply killing time, but I don't want to give up on this one different in a world of same. There must be something else, that's what my gut tells me and that's what I believe.

I see it from a distance at first and my steps quicken. I don't know what to call it, but it does look like it should belong with the train and its tracks. It's a bed of thick concrete that sticks out over the bushes and some kind of tall post stands in the centre of it. A set of steep steps lead my way up to the thick floor; each step brings a heavier weight over my head. I have not felt so vulnerable, not even during the launch. I feel like everyone in the world can see me up here, but I can't bring myself not to take a closer look.

I reach the top and I am shocked that I can see... everything. This must be the entire arena, the circle that I can see from this tall place. A thick line of grey envelopes the space, and beyond it I can see nothing but trees in all directions. At the centre of the arena is what must be the launch pad, I can just see the remains of the supply pile in the middle. Beyond that are circular layers of trees and yellow grass, just like what I saw coming up here. It looks like one gigantic cone, with the middle at the lowest point and everything getting slightly higher up as the arena goes outward.

It reminds me of that thing in training with the white and red circles that we were told to try to throw weapons at. A target, that's what it is. The arena is a target, and I can see all of it. The sense of vulnerability suddenly disappears and in its place comes a feeling of power and importance. From up here I can protect myself; I can see everyone coming before they even know I'm here. Up here I can survive. Up here I will be no one's target.

* * *

 **Ingo Arvallian, 18, Sector C**

* * *

Quentin had been wrong, we didn't outsmart the Gladiators. We delayed them, sure even lost them for the night, but they were back this morning. We had been walking through a particularly thin section of trees when we saw them in the distance. I backed us up carefully and hoped they simply hadn't spotted us. That was not the case at all.

It's been over an hour since that first sighting, and there have been many more. Not to mention the bits of conversation that float through the trees. They're here and not too far by the sounds of it, but neither group is running. They could chase us all down in a heartbeat, but for some reason they're waiting. For what, who knows, but it means we have more time to get a plan together.

I can see that we're coming up on the next patch of yellow grass, not good. In the trees we can hide and try to outmanoeuvre them, but on the grass we're dead. I saw that girl with the bow at the launch; she never misses completely. One of her arrows went right through a guy's arm with the sheer force behind it. I'm not into finding out how that feels.

Quentin turns a sharp right and we make our way across the edge of the trees. He looks back at me and I can see in his eyes what he thinks we should do. I shake my head sternly, there is no way in hell I am running across the grass; not with that bow girl so close by. Quentin grabs my arm and pulls me close so that I can hear his quiet words.

"It's not that far, Ingo. If we make it before they see us, they'll never find us. No one would think we would be that stupid."

"So you admit the plan is stupid?" I say back, fighting to keep my voice low.

"Yes, but do you have a better plan?"

I don't have anything to answer back with. Instead the voice of one of the Gladiator breaks through the trees, startlingly close. "I lost sight of them, Eros."

"Now or never," Quentin breathes. I look over at Leighton for a second but she is staring behind us. Quentin is right, we have to make a move and that move has to take us very far away from here.

"Go," I say, pulling Leighton forward and taking off before anyone has a chance to answer.

The three of us take off across the grass. Quentin was right, it's not very far, but it is far enough that we're going to need a few minutes to get to the other side. I can't hear the Gladiators behind us anymore which can only be a good thing, but I know we're not being nearly quiet enough. Our footsteps crunch in the yellow grass and our breathing is much louder now that we're running. I don't have time to stop us or run any slower to keep the noise down. I just hope it won't matter.

The girl's voice breaks through everything else, ringing in my ears as if she were standing right beside me. "There!"

I pump my legs even faster, no longer thinking about how loud I am being. We have no more time; we have to reach the other side and fast. I can see Quentin speed up in front of me and I try and focus on catching him. Leighton is close behind me by the sound of her panting, but I will her to speed up as well. The tree line is coming up fast and I can't help the hopeful thought from breaking through my mind.

 _We're going to make it._

Before the thought has even ran through my mind I hear it. Something hits the ground behind me and I don't have to even look to know what it is. They're shooting at us, but they missed. I can't believe they missed; I didn't think it was even possible. Another thing sticks into the ground beside me and this time I see what it is- a knife about the length of my forearm. We're only fifteen feet from the tree line when something much heavier hits the ground.

No, not something, some _one_. I glance behind me and see Leighton on the ground, something that looks kind of like a thin stick standing out of her back. An arrow from the girl with the bow, I know immediately. Without even thinking I turn around and grab her shoulder, pulling her up so that I can drag my ally with me. It slows me down considerably, but letting go isn't an option.

Another arrow hits the ground, missing me by an inch or so. I fumble and she drops to the ground. Before I can lean down to grab her again, Quentin is pulling me with him and we're getting further and further from Leighton. I can't seem to grasp onto any words, I just stare back at her as my legs keep moving.

I stop when I see her lift her head. It's not much, but it's enough to stir me back into action. I fight against Quentin's grip, but he doesn't let up. In fact he only pulls me harder. I look at him and see that he's staring straight ahead. He doesn't see her; he doesn't know that there's still time to help.

"She's alive," I whimper. "We have to get her."

"Ingo, don't," Quentin says after a moment. "We can't."

"Quentin let me go."

"They're too close. They already have her. We have to go," he says in quick bursts between breaths.

I look back at her and see that he's right. The Gladiators have nearly reached her, but she is trying to stand. I could help her still, there's got to be time. We can't leave her. We won't leave her. I pull harder against Quentin's grip and he responds by throwing me ahead of him. I look back at him and see that his face is stained with tears, but I don't understand it. She's not gone, not if we get her soon. There's still time.

"Ingo stop it. We have to leave her," Quentin says, his voice catching on my name. I only whimper in response. He didn't see what I saw. Leighton's not dead; she was trying to get up.

The sound of cannon fire makes my legs stop working, and Quentin finally lets go of me. That couldn't have been her; I saw her move just a minute ago. I don't want to believe it, but as the seconds go by I begin to. I remember what they said about cannon fire on the screen- that it meant I would be one closer to winning. That's what Cambria will tell me when she comes back to me. For now I can only think about the friend who just lost.

* * *

 **Eros Abner, 18, Gladiator**

* * *

I don't know what's up with Odin, but it's starting to get on Pyrrha and I's last nerve.

First there was the incident from yesterday. How could he have missed that that girl was hiding under a freaking branch? He told me later that he had lifted the branch and there hadn't been anyone under it, but she didn't just appear there.

Then just now there were three tributes who were within our grasp and yet two of them were able to get away. Actually if it hadn't been for Pyrrha all three of them would have. All because I ordered Odin to watch the prairie grass layer and he somehow didn't see. Pyrrha had been the one to spot them when they had been already halfway across, without her we wouldn't have even known where they'd gone.

Either he's being careless or he's being compassionate, and I am not about to deal with either one.

"What is up with you?" I hiss. We haven't even left the grass layer where Pyrrha shot one of the female tributes, but this conversation can't wait.

"I didn't see them, Eros," he growls. I'm not buying it.

"You had the best results in our tracking class last year, Odin. They shouldn't have been able to go anywhere without you knowing. They were halfway across for fuck's sake!" I know that I'm getting far more worked up than I should be, but my anger is taking over. Odin is putting all of us at risk by not doing everything he can to make sure we find all the tributes. The longer they're allowed to live the more likely one of us could get hurt.

"I didn't see them," he says a second time.

Pyrrha puts her hand on my shoulder before I answer, reminding me silently to keep face. I'm furious with Odin, but she's right. Yelling at him won't solve anything, in fact it could hurt us. The Capitol will be watching and, after last year, they've realized that a team that does not get along will not last. I have to save our image even if it means backing down. A great leader must always have their team's best interests in mind, and I am a great leader.

* * *

 **Valora Cordett, 18, Sector F**

* * *

 _Valora you cannot remain sedentary. There is much to do. Listen to me._

I have become good at ignoring Cosmo when his voice pops into my head. He has been no help to me; in fact, his advice has almost always seemed dangerous. Running into the supply pile like I did could have gotten me killed like so many of the others. I'm not about to give him so much as my acknowledgment after that.

Ronan tells me that he feels the same way about his mentor, Edrian, but I still see him furrow his brow every once in a while and I know he must be speaking to Ronan. I understand if that bothers him, the whole thing is super creepy in itself, but I don't like that he still listens to Edrian. If he is saying half as much about me as Cosmo does about him I don't want Ronan giving him the time of day.

Cosmo has told me time and again that I need to get away from Ronan, that he's distracting me from the bigger picture. He says that I should be on the move as much as possible; that the chance of someone finding me if I just sit here is too high. I don't care what he says, though. I enjoy Ronan's company and he makes me feel far safer than I ever could alone. I'm not going to abandon what little comfort I have found in this place on the whim of a complete stranger that I can't even see.

I can only hope that Ronan feels the same, but I have prepared myself for the possibility that Edrian will convince him to leave me.

"What are you thinking about, Val?"

I look over and see that Ronan is staring back at me. I blush, I must have been lost in my thoughts for some time. "Nothing much, just weighing our options."

"Which are?"

"I don't know," I shrug. "I'm trying to think of some."

"I see," he smiles. "We've been doing fine though. I don't think we need to do anything yet."

I can't return his smile. Of all his good qualities it's his optimism that gets on my nerves the most and yet makes me like him at the same time. "You know we can't just do nothing and expect to get out of here. We both know the rules."

"Kill a Gladiator or be the last one standing," he mumbles. Death makes him uncomfortable, that much is obvious. After we made sure to set off in the opposite direction of the Gladiators after the launch, Ronan hardly said a word. I had wondered if he had seen that first girl die, but I didn't want to ask. That night when we saw the faces of the dead in the sky he didn't stop crying until he fell asleep. The girl he had travelled to the Capitol with, Shaera, had died and it hit a little close to home for him.

Sometimes I think about Decker, the little redheaded boy who shared the train car all those days ago. I know he is still alive, but every time a cannon has fired I find myself wondering if maybe this time it's him. In fact, today when I heard the cannon I was almost certain it would be. Thankfully it wasn't, it was only a girl I didn't really recognize with a name I can't remember.

I grimace at my own morbidity. Is that what someone is going to think about if they see my picture in the sky? That they're glad it wasn't someone they knew the name of or had a conversation with. Will anyone but Ronan remember me if I do end up dead? Does Decker think of me sometimes?

"You did it again. Are you tired?"

I shake my head. "No, just thinking."

"What else is new?" He chuckles. It has amazed me how easily Ronan can express what he's feeling. I can't remember the last time I had really cried like he does, and the first time I'd laughed in days was when I had been talking to him and Alastair the night before the launch.

Alastair. The name rips through me like a dull blade. He was killed before I ever saw him at the launch, but I think Ronan saw who did it. I think Ronan saw a lot more of the launch than I did, but he just doesn't want to talk about it. I can't blame him. I saw the bodies and that made my stomach turn. I can't imagine having seen them actually die.

The thought breaks through everything else and it's on my lips before I even consider it. "One of us has to kill one of them."

"W-what?" Ronan asks and I know that I've hit a nerve by the way his face changes.

I can't take it back. We both know it's true and we've only been delaying. For once I consider that Cosmo may have been right about something; we can't just stay here as the days tick by. "We have to kill a Gladiator, Ro."

"We can't," he says after a moment. "Didn't you see them? There is no way we could even get close enough to try."

"Both of us can't get out unless we do it."

"There's got to be another way."

"You tell me. We both know the rules, Ro."

"I don't care," he replies through gritted teeth. "It's not happening; we're not risking it."

"If we work together we can do it. We can come up with a plan so that they never see us coming. Maybe pick one off when they split up or in the middle of the night when they're asleep. We can-"

"Stop," he says firmly and stands up, taking a few steps away from me. "Do you hear yourself? You're talking about _killing_ someone, Val. That's not who we are, or at least that's not who I am."

"Ro, don't be like that." Doesn't he realize how irrational he's being? It's not like we have a choice. Either we die or they die, it's that simple. I'm not going to let his good character get us killed. "There isn't any other way."

"There's got to be. We just haven't found it yet."

* * *

 **Griffin Mastiff, 16, Sector D**

* * *

Even with the three tarps over me I am freezing cold. Demetra offered me her hat and I shoved it over my numb hands, but it has done little good. The air was not nearly this cold last night, and no one else is this cold except for me. In fact, they're all asleep in nearby tree trunks. I haven't slept since yesterday. I just can't stop shivering.

It's hard to grab at the thoughts that race through my mind, but it could just be that I'm exhausted. Tired and I can't sleep no matter how comfortable I try to get; what a great combination that is. We shoule have just kept walking, that's what I told Demetra anyway. She said I should rest, but as it turns out I'm the only one who is _not_ resting. They said I looked pale, but I said they're seeing things. I feel fine, I'm just cold and a little nauseous but that's because I haven't eaten much today.

My arm has even started feeling better, which must prove that I'm fine. Last time Demetra changed my bandage I didn't need to bite down on my hand to stay quiet. It only felt like a bit of pressure and some tingling, which is a great improvement from stabbing, excruciating pain.

We just need to keep going and get to wherever Everett is taking us. When we get there I'll feel better about resting, but right now it just seems like we're wasting time. I'll admit that my arrow wound didn't look great when I last saw it. There was green pus flowing out of it, but that's just the thing draining. Patches of my skin were red or grey, but that could be from the tight wrapping. Once we get out I'll have it checked out by someone; right now Demetra is doing a good enough job of taking care of it. I just hope Everett can hold up his end of this alliance deal.

We've been in this place for three days now and still he hasn't found whatever he is looking for. He won't even tell us what it is meaning that none of us can do anything but point out objects that look a bit out of place. Everett assured us that we must be getting close, but I don't know how he could know that. Everything in this place looks the same.

I adjust the toque on my hands and my movement brings on another wave of nausea. I haven't thrown up so I'm sure it's just hunger pains, but it really isn't helping my situation. Food sounds awful right now, but I'm sure that it would make me feel better. Maybe I should go out and look for something since it's obvious I'm not going to be sleeping anytime soon.

I pull one hand out of the hat, leaving it to cover the one on my wounded side. It takes a lot of effort to get out of the wide hole in the tree trunk, but I somehow manage it. My feet feel unsteady underneath me and I realize that I can hardly feel them. I reach down and fumble with my laces, trying to loosen them. I give up after a while; I'll figure that out once I find some food.

No one else is awake, which I expected. I consider waking up someone to go with me, but I figure I'll only be gone a few minutes anyway. It's better that everyone else rest up since I'm going to be like the walking dead tomorrow.

I know that something is wrong when I've only gotten a few steps from my tree. My legs buckle underneath me and I have to struggle to stay on my feet for even a minute longer. As I hit the floor, my stomach turns even more violently and I empty my stomach onto the ground in front of me. It feels like my heart is trying to beat through my chest, but I'm hardly moving at all. In fact, I fall to my side a few seconds later when I'm no longer able to hold myself up.

Something is definitely wrong, but when I try to call out for someone to wake up my voice is silenced by the violent shivering that overtakes every bit of energy in my body. I hug my arms over my stomach, which still turns like I might vomit again.

I'm terrified, but nothing I tell my body to do is working. I try to stand but it's like my muscles can't understand what I want from them. I try to call for help but my jaw is clenched shut by the shivering. I can't do anything but stare straight ahead of me at the sideways trees.

My breaths become shallow, like my chest simply cannot expand enough for me to take in a good swallow of air. My heart is still beating as though I were running across the nation and that feeling alone becomes painful as the beats pound against my chest. I find that I cannot even move my head to look another way. I can't do anything.

I vomit again and it drains down the side of my face. I try to spit the taste out of my mouth but find that even that tiny action is too much for my body. I've finally stopped shivering, but I think it's because I'm too cold for it to help. Silence takes over my body, but it is anything but calm. Inside of my head I am still screaming for someone to wake up and help me even after I close my eyes.

* * *

 _ **Leighton Shaller, Sector C**_

 _ **Griffin Mastiff, Sector D**_

* * *

 **A/N: Look at me go, getting updates out like it's my day job. That's day three of the arena, and two more deaths to add to the tolls. I'll miss writing these two, but their plots were complete. I've always wanted to kill a tribute from infection and it was even more fun to write than I imagined it would be.**

 **I still have that poll up on my profile asking if people would want to submit to a sequel for this story. I'd love for as many people as possible to vote on it so that I can make a good decision on whether or not I'd be wasting my time in beginning to cook up a new story. Thanks to everyone that has voted so far and keep them coming!**

 **That's pretty much it. Until next time!**


	17. Only the Dead

_"_ _Only the dead have seen the end of war."  
― Plato_

* * *

 **Arena Day Four**

* * *

 **Pyrrha Cortese, 18, Gladiator**

* * *

We mostly walk in silence now.

Odin and Eros are not speaking after yesterday, and I have always been a person of few words. If neither of them wish to strike up a conversation than I am glad to enjoy the quiet. At least they're not fighting anymore. I hope that is because they understand how bad that would look to Panem and the Academy.

Last year one of my closest friends, Hans Taleno, at the Academy was selected for the arena. It was Hans and two girls named Yula and Katerine. They had been a team for at least as long as Odin, Eros, and I, but they were never as close. They had other friends whom they trained with and probably liked a lot better than their teammates; they spent a lot of their free time apart or alone.

When it came time for the launch, Yula was among those killed. That has never happened in at least the last fifty some odd years and it devastated the Academy. We all watched as one of the strongest students was taken down by a rogue tribute. Hans and Katerine ended up making it out, but they came close to death far too many times. I watched every move they made as they made it. It was the first time someone I knew well was in the arena, and I was terrified that he wouldn't come back out.

Head Trainer Ayres used them as a lesson, and ensured that all training was conducted in teams from then on. We were assigned to spend every minute we could with our teammates. We had to be a unit, that was the statement drilled into our minds every day. Odin, Eros, and I were almost never seen apart. We feared that spending any time alone would forfeit our chances of being selected.

We were a unit, but they've forgotten that. Odin and Eros have forgotten the lesson that last year's team provided us with, but even so we will not make their mistakes. I will get us all out of this place and no one is going to stand in my way, not even Eros.

He may be the public leader of our team, but it's always been me who has called the shots when it counts.

* * *

 **Cadria Arias, 17, Sector A**

* * *

I can't get Shaera and Aislinn out of my head. They just won't leave me; not their faces, their voices, or the many dead bodies that my mind has conjured up. I don't know how they died but it's not hard to think that it was by the Gladiator's hands. They are the only ones who would be able to hurt such sweet people.

The nightmares come whether I'm asleep or not. When Blair and I are trying to gather up some food or searching for water, the images come in violent flashes and make me jump. When I'm asleep it's even worse. I don't just see snapshots of what could have happened, I see entire bloody scenes play out over and over again with each one more horrifying than the last.

Blair used to ask me what was wrong when I flinched. She's have me describe the pictures, thinking maybe it would help get them out of my head. They never let up and she's stopped asking now. In fact, we've stopped talking about Shaera and Aislinn altogether. I think Blair assumes it's too much for me to handle right now. Now it's like they only live in my head. Sometimes it's strange to think they ever existed outside of it.

The taste of blood brings me out of my thoughts; I must have broken open the cut on my tongue again. It's still just as dark around me with no hint of morning coming at any time soon. I rest my chin on my knees and stare off into the night. I'm not even tired anymore.

I reach over Blair's sleeping form for the water bottle that we've been sharing. I can tell before I even open it that it's empty but I screw off the top and tip it over near my mouth all the same. Only a few drops of water leak out of the bottle. We had just filled it up before we made camp, but we must have drank it all.

The pond must be nearby. I don't remember walking more than a few minutes before we found this spot. I could probably make it there and back without Blair ever realizing that I was gone. She's been big on us sticking together, but I don't want to wake her. She's done a lot to help me along these few days; I can go get water by myself if it means she can sleep longer.

I shift to my feet as quietly as possible, but I hit a branch that has been sitting beside me. I wince and continue, even quieter this time. I've made it to my feet by the time Blair turns over to face me. her eyes aren't open but I can tell she's awake.

"Cadria?" Blair mumbles. Her voice is heavy with sleep, even more so than when we first stopped. "Why are you up?"

"I was just going to get water," I whisper back. "You can go back to sleep."

"What? That's far. Can you wait a couple hours until it's light? I don't know if I can find it in the dark."

"You don't have to come. I think I know where it is."

"By yourself? That's not a good idea. If you need to go now we'll go, okay."

I think about it and decide against going. Blair needs her sleep and it looks like she isn't going to let me go off alone. I'm not that thirsty anyway, I just wanted something to do. "It's fine. I can wait."

"You sure?" She murmurs even as I can see her eyes half-drifting back into sleep. She's exhausted, and rightfully so. I've kept her up all of our nights here so far with my sleep talking. She said I kept calling for someone to run faster or to stay with me. We both knew who I was dreaming about, but neither of us mentioned their names.

"I'm sure," I say quietly, but she's already closed her eyes. I slide back down to the ground beside her and lean in close. The warmth of her body is comforting, and she snuggles her head onto my shoulder. I sigh and try to get comfortable, but I know I'm going to be in for a long night. It's just as well, probably. One of us should be awake just in case someone comes by.

I close my eyes in an attempt to sleep, but almost immediately the scenes flash across the back of my eyelids. My eyes fly back open right away and my heart lurches into my throat like it might be trying to escape. I clench my hands together and stare back out into the darkness. Sleep could not be more far away right now.

The area around us is peaceful, but not enough so that I can't imagine all the terrible things that could be happening a short distance away. We haven't had so much as a sighting of any of the tributes or Gladiators since the launch, but that doesn't mean they're far away. I don't know exactly how big the arena is, but it's got to be small enough that we'll run into someone eventually. I think that's the point, for us to see each other and fight until someone dies.

I shudder at the thought that death could be that close for any of us. I know that I would never kill anyone, but I also know that some of them might kill me. Would I be able to defend myself if someone tried to come after me? Would I hurt them? Would I try to kill them? Will I win that fight if it comes to that?

I don't know the answer to these questions. I'm not sure I even want to know.

* * *

 **Ronan Traupelle, 17, Sector G**

* * *

I know that Valora is right.

We do have to do something. We do have to try to fight for ourselves to get out of here. We do have to take any opportunity to get ahead in this awful game. We do have to be prepared for the fact that killing someone would mean that we can live.

I just don't know if I could ever really do any of this. She's been talking almost constantly about forming a plan since I agreed that we need to do what is needed to make sure we get out of here alive. I was against it and I think I still am, but I'm more strongly against dying.

Valora wants to kill a Gladiator. The thought is disgusting but it could be our only chance. The Game Master told us that the only ways to leave the arena were to kill a Gladiator or to be the last one standing. If both of us are going to get out at least one of us has to kill. More than likely we'll both have to. I'm going to have to take a knife and kill someone because I don't want to die. I have to make the decision that someone else's life is less important than mine.

Valora has already made that decision. She has already told me about where she plans on going when she gets out- District Two, where she was from before she ended up in Zero. I have been trying to stop my mind from going that far ahead, but I think I would go back to District Four if I was given the chance. Beside my family in Zero, I have Wyatt who was old enough to stay in Four after our mother was convicted. He'll be twenty-two now and I haven't seen him in over two years. I have always wondered what he was getting up to without us and it's crazy to think that I might be able to see him again.

I wonder what he would think of me if I came back. I would have to tell him how I got there and what I did. Would he still want to be around me if he knew I had killed someone to get back to him? Would he understand? My brother has always been one of those quiet, hardworking men that wanted nothing more than to fulfil their duty in society. I want to think that he would be happy to see me no matter how I go there, but I have some doubts. Wyatt would never dream of hurting a fly so how would he react to knowing his brother is a murderer?

I shake myself out of these thoughts. This is the problem with entertaining the what-ifs- I get caught up in things that are so far away when I need to focus on getting there first. We need to be making a plan, but I can't even bring myself to talk about it yet. It's too soon after seeing the destruction at the launch. I need to get those demons out of my head before I create new ones.

"Are you ready to talk about it yet?" Valora asks for the third time since we woke up.

I shake my head, the same response that I have given every time. I'm not ready and I don't know when or if I will be ready to plan a murder.

"It's been four days, Ro," she sighs. "I'm not saying we have to do anything today, but we should at least start making plans."

"Okay," I choke out but my voice easily gives me away. No matter how much I want to get out and see Wyatt, I just can't wrap my head around the idea. It's horrifying and disgusting, no matter if the person deserves this. Valora says that we're not bad people because the Gladiators have already killed so many. She thinks that we're actually doing some good because we're stopping them from hurting anyone else. I don't know how to tell her that she's wrong. It's not our job to judge these people and sentence them to death no matter what they did. We'd be just as horrible for killing the killers as they are for being the killers.

Her face softens when she looks at me. "Ro I wouldn't be asking you to do this if I didn't have to."

"We don't have to," I remind her.

"We do," she sighs. "It's our lives at stake and we have a chance to fight for them. The Gladiators are fighting for themselves and that means killing us tributes. They haven't hesitated one bit and neither should we. It's not wrong to want to live, Ro."

"I know but they're people," I say. We've had this argument so many times over the past few days, even after I admitted she was right. I just can't let the idea go that the Gladiators are just like us with a home to get back to.

"So are we," she says plainly. I just nod in response; I don't want to fight her anymore. She's right, we're only making a plan we're not putting it into action anytime soon. Even if we wanted to do something now it would still take us hours if not days to actually find them. I'm not going to have to do anything right now. I have time to make peace with this, if that's even possible.

"Okay."

Her eyes widen a bit as I breathe out the single word. She knows that I'm not just saying it to stop her from talking this time. I'm giving her permission to talk about it even if it's going to be painful to hear. This is something I have to entertain, even if I'm certain I will never be able to pull it off. Valora wants to get out so bad and I can maybe help her win, even if I already know that I'm going to lose.

* * *

 **Quentin Reiss, 18, Sector A**

* * *

The sun has gone down and came back up again since we found this hiding spot. I was able to drag Ingo a good distance away from the Gladiators and the place that they killed Leighton and we lost them pretty easily. I heard them shouting as we ran, but their voices didn't follow us. We went to the next tree line and found a tree with hole in its trunk that was big enough for both of us to slide into it, but just barely.

Our legs are entwined together near our feet and I can still feel us both shaking. It's been such a long time since we've spoken, but as the minutes drag by it becomes even harder to get any words off of my lips. Ingo's cheek is pressed up against the inside of the tree, his face covered in shadows so that I can't see the puffiness of his eyes. He has hardly moved since we got here and I'm sure that neither us have slept more than a couple of hours.

The guilt started creeping in last night when the air was too dark to even tell if Ingo was still beside me. It was my idea to run across the grass. Ingo had been against it and Leighton never gave her opinion, but we went anyway and only two of us made it. If I would have thought for a second longer maybe I would have realized how stupid an idea it was. Maybe we could have found a hiding spot like that first time we ran into the Glads. Maybe, maybe, maybe is all I seem to think about.

I'm sure that Ingo hates me. How could he not? I got one of killed and didn't even allow him to stop to try and help her. In the moment I was certain that we would all die if we went back for her, but maybe we could have made it. She was still alive when we ran off; I saw her try to get up on her hands. Maybe we could have all made it back and then laughed about how we outsmarted the Glads yet again. Instead we're crouched in a tree with a huge hole in our group and not even a word between us.

I should have protected Leighton. I should have pulled both her and Ingo with me as I ran, so that we would have all been together. I was way ahead of them and none of the arrows even came close to me, but I didn't think to help them. I was blinded by the fear that coursed through me and I only thought about getting to safety. I should have protected my friends, but I didn't.

That will never happen again.

That is the one thought that has never left my head since we got to safety. I will not let the same thing happen to Ingo. Not even one more scratch will be put on my friends because of me failing to protect them. If we come across those Glads again, I will not run unless Ingo is running beside me. I will not be a coward and let someone else die because of me. I just won't let it happen again.

"We should go."

Ingo's voice brings me out of my head and I look over to see that he is staring past me towards the outside of our cave. I nod but I don't think he sees me. I begin to climb out of the cave in front of him and Ingo has to move to the side to let me through. Once I'm out I block his way out until I'm sure that there is nothing dangerous outside waiting for us. Ingo gives me a strange look when he finally climbs out but doesn't say anything.

"Which way did we come from?" He asks. I point towards the trees to our left; I still can't bring myself to say anything.

He nods and we start walking towards the grassy layer. I put my hand out to block him when we reach its edge and he pushes it away to start walking. I take a quick glance all around us and continue after him, rushing to get to his side. We walk quickly across the area and are back in the trees a while later. I don't stop looking around us the entire time and Ingo doesn't stop staring at me.

"Wait," I say finally, breaking my silence when I hear a rustling sound from nearby.

"What? It's just one of those stupid birds, probably," he says without pausing and I grab his shoulder to stop him.

Immediately he shrugs out of my grip. "What is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, my hand dropping to my side after a moment of hovering.

"You're acting weird," he says, narrowing his eyes as he looks back at me.

"No I'm not," I protest. I haven't done anything that I shouldn't have been doing this whole time. I'm just being cautious so that we don't run into anything we're not prepared to deal with.

"Yes you fucking are," he says sharply. "You're acting like I'm a little kid and, newsflash, I'm not. Just because I checked out for a bit doesn't mean I'm not capable of looking out for my fucking self. I don't need you to look out for me so don't."

My face reddens because he's right. "Look, I'm just trying to be careful. The Glads found us two days in a row, man. I'm just trying to watch your back."

"Then watch it," he says, some of his anger seeming to disappear and leave the same tired person that I had to half-drag into the tree trunk the other night. "Just stop grabbing me I'm not a toddler."

"I'm sorry, I will," I promise. I don't mean for him to get upset; I'm just trying to help. We continue walking and I make a point to ask him to stop without touching him, but he still gives me dirty looks each time. I know he doesn't want me watching him but I'm going to do it anyway. He can hate me if he wants to, but at least he'll be safe.

* * *

 **Demetra Van Sant, 16, Sector I**

* * *

We found Griffin early this morning after the cannon proved to be for him. Decker threw up the little food that we had eaten last night, and I was pretty close to getting sick myself. His skin was completely white, and there was blood around his lips. It hardly looked like him at all; the birds got to him before we woke up, but they didn't touch his face. The rest of his body, however, was ripped into strips of fabric and flesh.

We left as soon as we could gather everything. I couldn't even bring myself to get my toque from where he had wrapped it around his hands. It seemed so wrong to take from the dead, and none of us could stomach being that close to him. Before we had even left the clearing the birds swarmed back over him. We've been walking in silence ever since, but so many words have been swimming through my head just waiting for a chance to get out.

I'm surprised when we see the train. We always heard the trains passing in District Zero, but this one is nearly silent. I'm the first one to move, running alongside of it and searching for a grip. Everett and Decker are close behind and without even asking them I jump and grab hold of a thick handle beside one of the openings. I hear two more bodies hit the ground of the train car after me, but I'm too amazed by what I see.

There are things in the seats, many things. Some weapons and a lot of food and survival gear. I almost cry when I see it, the rumbling of my stomach growing even angrier as I stare at the rows of seats that each hold a gift. All of us begin grabbing for as much as we can stuff into our bags and pockets. One of the seats holds a knife about the length of my forearm and I toss it into my bag, which is now filled to bursting. I keep my machete in my hand and ready.

Finally when the feeling of excitement taper off I find the power to speak. "There is no plan, is there, Everett?"

He turns to me and I can see the answer in his eyes before he even has a chance to speak. Decker looks between Everett and I with wide, questioning eyes. I can't bring myself to look at him as I continue. "We've been running around this place for four days and you haven't even told us what we're trying to find because there is nothing to find. You've been lying to us and I want to know for how long you've been planning on keeping this up."

Everett is stunned as both Decker and I stare at him awaiting his response. I know that I've caught him off guard; that was the plan, not to give him a chance to come up with any explanation beforehand. I'd suspected that he'd been lying since the beginning, but after the first night I knew. I didn't want to be apart from this group, even after Everett's lying, until this morning. As much as I hate to admit it, the group made me feel safe and I even think I began to care for my allies. That all changed when I saw Everett look at Griffin's body this morning. It was so obvious that he didn't care I could have slapped him.

"I was going to tell you," he finally says. "If I couldn't get us out I was going to say so, but I wanted to try first."

"W-what?" Decker chokes out and I can see that he is close to tears. He looks away from Everett and back to me, as if willing me to tell him that it's all not true.

I step towards Decker and put a hand on his shoulder. "He's been lying to us since the beginning. There never was a plan, he just wanted us to think there was. Somewhere in his sick mind that seemed like a good idea."

"None of us would have been together if I hadn't done it," Everett tries indignantly. "No one would have allied with you if I hadn't made this group for you."

I can't help the anger from flashing across my face. How dare he say that he did this to help us, to help me? All he did was lie and he expects me to thank him? Is he out of his mind? "I didn't need this group, you did. I only came along because I stupidly thought that some kid knew how to get us out of this place, and I'm done. You better not come anywhere near me ever again or-"

"Or you'll what," Everett asks, his eyes narrowing as they meet mine. "Or you'll _kill_ me, like that girl at the launch?"

My face drops when I realize what he's saying. After four days I was sure that none of my allies had seen what I had done. I was ready to explain if they had, because I truly hadn't meant to kill her I just wasn't thinking straight. I'm not dangerous, but the way that Decker steps back from me tells me that he thinks I am.

"It was a mistake," I spit. "I never meant to hurt her."

"You don't stab somebody by accident," he says. "You don't let a little girl bleed out on the grass by mistake."

Decker backs away from us both, his eyes wide and terrified. I want to say something to him, but I don't know what to say. Everett isn't lying this time about what I did, and I can't say anything to make it go away.

"Decker," I say quietly, but that only makes him back away that much faster. He is so close to the door now and I think that he's going to jump out and run off, but he doesn't look behind him. Not until the last second, and that's when it's far too late.

He vanished just like that. One second he is standing less than five feet away and the next he isn't. Everett and I run to the door, squeezing into the small space to get a look outside. Instead of the trees that we are used to seeing, from this side all we can see is grass. Grass and Decker's small body crumpled beside the tracks behind us, electric sparks dancing around him and a wall of electricity lit up where his shoulder touches the edge of the grass.

* * *

 ** _Decker Vanes, Sector F_**

* * *

 **A/N: Well hello. This chapter took a bit longer than last time and the next ones may as well because I have a few things going on these next couple of weeks. Still, I'm hoping to get through these chapters as quickly as possible so that this story can actually end.**

 **RIP to Decker, who was my little cutie from the beginning. He was such a genuine guy and I loved writing the contrast between him and the others in his alliance. Unfortunately, this was as far as I saw him going because it would have been too heartbreaking to write the aftermath of his hopes of escape being destroyed. If anyone is confused about how he died, well let's just say we found the edge of the arena. Big thanks to his submitter, Light Blue Light!**

 **After reviewing the results of my poll, I am pretty certain that I will be putting out a sequel to this story in the near future. I would like to get very close to the end of this story before I commit to that, but know that it is very likely I will be posting by the end of June.**

 **That is all for this time!**


	18. Meet Me There

_"_ _Meet me there, where the sea meets the sky..."  
― __Oksana Rus_

* * *

 **Arena Day Five**

* * *

 **Alanis Marcham, 14, Sector H**

* * *

"Alanis?"

I jump when I hear my name, throwing myself behind the closest thing which happens to be a thin branch that never could have shielded me from anything. My eyes dart around the area which up until now has been free on anyone except me. I haven't even seen another person for day, let alone heard someone's voice. I'm convinced it was some cruel trick from my mind until I hear it again.

"Alanis?!"

I know this voice but I can't place a name to it. My fear collapses into something completely different and just barely recognizable to me as excitement. Someone is here and I know who it is. After five days there is someone here and they're looking for me. I feel my heart jumping in my chest at just the thought of seeing someone between the endless landscapes.

I shuffle myself out from behind the tree and walk towards the voice. I don't know if it's the smart thing to be doing, but I don't even care right now. It's been so long, too long, since I have seen another human being. I'm dying for some interaction and this voice isn't malicious, it's familiar.

"Hello?" I call out, but my voice is raspy from days of not being used. I hardly recognize it as mine, but I know it must be. I call out again and this time my voice does not crack. "I'm here!"

I see him before he sees me. It's Everett, the boy that I travelled here with in that awful train car. The one who wouldn't stop talking the entire way no matter how many times I told him to shut his trap. I was so ready to get away from him when we finally got to the Capitol, but right now I couldn't be happier to see him.

"Everett! I'm here!" I call out and wave my arms around to get his attention. He bounds towards me, his face red from running and his lips pressed into that brilliant, annoying smile. I just barely stop myself from throwing my arms around him and squeezing as tightly as I can.

"Alanis," he breathes, bending over at the waist with his hands pressed into his sides. He must have been running a while by the look of him. I wonder how long ago he saw me, hoping it wasn't too long. I don't like the idea that I could be that easy to track, but if it brought him to me then I'm kind of glad I am. "I thought it was you. You remember my name?"

"You remember mine," I retort, unable to keep the smile from spreading across my lips. I can't believe how much I have missed just talking to someone. It's been less than a week since I was talking to Topher and Kaelyn through that screen, and even less time since I spoke to that man in my head. I hate speaking to Monroe, but even his silence has left me wishing he'd reappear. He told me that he can only speak to me for a certain number of hours through the course of the Games, but I haven't heard from him in over a day.

Having Everett here with me is so much better than having Monroe. I can't see Monroe, I can only hear him, but I know he can both see and hear me as well as see and hear what I can see and hear. Everett is a real, flesh and blood person standing right in front of me that isn't trying to get me to follow his instructions, or at least not so far. I missed real people so much more than I thought.

"Can I stay with you?" Everett blurts out after a few seconds of silence. He looks surprised at his own words, maybe even embarrassed, but I just grin.

"Of course," I reply. "Are you not with anyone?"

"Does it look like I am with anyone?"

"Nope not really, but I guess now you are."

He pauses for another moment, a grin climbing across his lips as we stare at each other. "I guess I am. So where to?"

"There is really nowhere to get to in here," I shrug. It's true I haven't seen much besides trees, grass, and black-eyed crows since the launch. I don't really think there is anything else to see.

"Isn't there?" He says playfully, a smirk jumping to his lips.

"Not as far as I can tell."

"What if I said I knew of a place," he asks, his eyes latching onto mine. "A really cool place that isn't very far from here and has a lot of food and weapons and stuff?"

I can't imagine what he could be talking about. After the first couple of days I had figured that I'd seen everything that I would be seeing in the arena. How could I miss the kind of place that Everett is talking about? "I would say what are we doing waiting around here?"

"I don't know if I should take you there," he sighs, but I can tell he's just trying to be dramatic. "It's kind of pretty special, and could probably keep me alive for as long as this thing could last. Does it really make sense to share?"

I may have only known Everett for a couple of hours when we were on that train, but I do know that he loves to hear himself talk. Of course I know that he is going to take me to this place, or else he wouldn't have said anything. He just wants to hear me beg, and that is definitely not going to happen in this lifetime or the next.

"Just get moving before I change my mind," I say with as cheerful and annoying a voice as I can. "I do have some very important trees to see and crows to throw rocks at."

He sighs dramatically. "Very well, if we must hurry then we must. Though, we could always take those rocks to go. I'm sure there'll be plenty of those stupid birds wherever we go."

* * *

 **Klay Deraval, 18, Sector E**

* * *

It was early this morning when I saw her, the girl whose face never changed in my dreams. I could not remember her name, but I knew that it was her. The girl who killed Eloise and, in my dreams, Tova. She was dirtier and her face was more shattered than before, but it was definitely her.

Now the sun has nearly gone down and I am still with her. At first I told myself it was because she could be useful to me. After all she is the only one besides the Gladiators that I know has killed someone; I might need her. Now I'm beginning to realize that I am partially still with her because I am dying to have someone besides Juno to talk to, even if she is a murderer.

I am able to put off my hate of her in favour of the many ways she might benefit me. Though Demetra did manage to get to Eloise, I am much bigger than Eloise and Demetra. She will not be able to hurt me very easily, and I'm not about to let my guard down to give her a chance to either. It might be best for me to stay with her right now, but I will be constantly revaluating that decision. The second the risk outweighs the benefit and I'll be gone.

I nearly run into her when she stops and turns around to face me. I put my hands out defensively but instantly place them back down again. We've been walking a while, though I don't think either of us really has a destination in mind. She took me over to the train this morning, and I was amazed to find that it was filled with all of the things I never got from the supply pile. I shoved as many bags of food into my pockets as I could comfortably fit and Demetra found me a shiny stick with one pointed end. It feels heavy in my hands, but I know that it will be enough to keep me safe.

"We need to make a plan," she says flatly.

Since we met up that has been all she has wanted to talk about, her brilliant idea of killing a Gladiator. Neither of us has seen much of them for a few days, but I don't think it will be difficult to find them. The hard part is going to be what we do when we find them. I don't think it's going to be as easy as just going up to one and stabbing it.

"We do," I agree.

She nods back at me and slides down the nearest tree trunk, pulling her legs to her chest and resting her chin on her knees. I sit down across from her, laying my weapon down so that it is only a few inches away from my hand. I am with her, but I do not trust her.

"Have you seen them?" She asks.

"The Gladiators?" I try and she nods. "Not since the launch."

"Me neither," she says. "Who do you think would be the weakest one?"

I think about it for a moment. I have only seen the Gladiators a handful of times- at training, during my private session, and then at the launch- but I did make a point to observe them. That is what I do best, after all. "Not the girl."

"Definitely not the girl," she agrees. "So out of the guys, then?"

I search my memory until I remember each of them. The taller one was clearly supposed to be in charge, judging by the way he was always bookended by the other two when I saw them in the Capitol. He had the hardest expression, but that doesn't mean much. It's pretty possible that he's the bark of the group, not the bite.

The other boy always wore a milder expression, but there was an aura around him that still commanded attention. He is smaller than the leader, but not by very much. He stood behind the other two whenever I saw them walking somewhere, and he was the only one I didn't see during the launch. That could mean he was somewhere I couldn't see and doing as much damage as the other two, but my gut tells me a different story.

"The shorter boy," I say finally. "He's the weak link."

She furrows her brow. "Are you sure?"

I hesitate for a moment, wondering if maybe Demetra saw something that would discount my theory. I take a deep breath and nod. I've always trusted my gut and it's never steered me wrong. "I'm sure."

"Then we'll kill him," she says plainly, sending a shiver running down my spine. The way she says it, as calmly as if she was commenting on the weather, brings my thoughts back to Eloise. The girl that took her life away is sitting right in front of me and I'm going to possibly help her kill again. Am I completely insane or a genius teaming up with her?

"How?" I ask. Thankfully my voice doesn't give away my nerves. Is this actually happening? Am I discussing killing a person with a known murderer?

"I think our best chance is to tail them until they stop for a rest-"

"Do they even sleep?"

"Let's hope so," she sighs. "Once they fall asleep we'll sneak as close as we can, then I'll figure out how to kill him."

I nod, but even as she is speaking another plan is beginning to form in my head. If Demetra is right and we are able to get close enough to the Gladiators to kill one, then it's not going to be her that does it. I know the rules, if she makes that shot then she's the one that will get out and I'll still be stuck here. I imagine we'll only get one shot in before they wake up and I'm going to be the one to take it. I deserve to get out, not her, and if they catch her after I'm gone well I'll just call it Eloise's revenge.

* * *

 **Blair Myles, 18, Sector J**

* * *

Everything changed in just one second.

We hadn't been settled in for more than a few hours when we heard them. The Gladiators, we knew because no one else could move that quickly, and they were far too close. I'd pulled Cadria up and we took off. I couldn't even feel my feet hit the ground I was so numb from fear.

Maybe we shouldn't have run. It's possible they hadn't seen us before we took off, but we'll never know because they saw us then. I don't know how long we actually ran for, or how we were able to stay far enough away from the Gladiators, but we did it. We did it until we didn't.

I hardly saw them, but I know they saw us. Cadria screamed when something sliced the edge of her ear, just barely missing her skull. We kept running and I'm not even sure how we managed that either. Then I felt it, the pain in my stomach that made me half-collapse onto Cadia.

I couldn't look down, well wouldn't is more likely, but I knew.

Now I have more of my weight on Cadria than on my own two feet, but we're still moving. Slowly and quietly, but we're still moving and that is all that matters right now. I can still hear distant footsteps around us, but they're not nearly as close as they were. The only thing that seems to be going in our favour is the darkness of the night, but right now that's enough.

"Cadria," I huff. "Cadria I need to stop."

She looks over at me and I think that's when she notices. I just get my hand over her lips in time for her to remember we have to be quiet. I still won't let myself look down, but the look on Cadria's face tells me all I need to know.

Cadria is shaking when she helps me to the ground under a large, fallen tree branch. My head slams down on the ground when I can't hold it up anymore. Every part of my body just feels like dead weight, even my arms are too heavy to lift.

"W-what is that?" Cadria asks, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. She points down at my stomach and I look before I can stop myself.

There is a handle sticking out of the left side of my stomach, just under my ribs. I grab the handle, but don't dare to move it. The pain hits me much harder this time and I bite my tongue until I taste blood in an effort to stifle a scream. I can just barely hear Cadria sobbing above me over my heart beating in my ears.

"Cadria," I whisper, the word coming out as a burst between breaths. "Cadria you have to be quiet."

She nods, covering her mouth with one hand as she strokes my hair with the other. "Blair what do I do?"

"I don't know," I say, tears beginning to cloud my vision until I can only just make out the shape of her face above mine.

"No you have to," she sobs. "You have to tell me how to help, please."

Her words are nearly as painful as the knife in my stomach. I reach up and touch her cheek and she puts a hand over mine. "Please, Blair, what do I do?"

"I don't know," I say honestly, my eyelids becoming too heavy for me to keep open. The pain is lessening in my stomach, but I know enough to know that's not a good thing. As much as I don't want to believe it I know that I am going to die. There is nothing that Cadria or anyone else can do without a hospital. Just like the kids at the launch, no one is going to whisk me away to the infirmary and stop the bleeding.

"No, Blair, you have to know," she cries. "You have to know, please, you have to."

"Cadria," I whisper but it becomes too difficult for me to even finish my thought let alone my sentence. I can no longer hear my heart beating or feel my head on the grass underneath me. All I can feel is Cadria's soft hand as it runs through my hair, and it's comforting. I am not afraid, not with her here with me.

Her voice is louder as it reaches my ears, but this time I cannot tell her to whisper. I can feel her hands dance over my shoulders, shaking me and then dropping her hands away. I know that she is scared, but she can't be. She should be going, so that she will make it out of this.

I open my eyes again and it takes all of my strength to speak just a few words. "You'll make it, Cad."

"No," she shouts, but I have already closed my eyes again. "You'll make it, Blair, you will! Please don't give up."

I want to tell her that I have no other choice, but the words die before they can even travel to my lips. I can feel nothing now- not pain in my stomach or her hands on my skin- and the nothingness envelopes me until all other sounds are blocked from my ears. All sounds, except for a quiet voice that is familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

"Please don't leave me here alone."

* * *

 **Eros Abner, 18, Gladiator**

* * *

"I got one of them, I know I did," I grunt, but the truth is beginning to be undeniable. If I would have made my shot then I would have a body, but I don't.

Pyrrha puts a hand on my shoulder. "They've got to be around here. We would have heard them if they'd kept running."

"Wait." I hold up one hand and both of my teammates stop to listen. I hear it again, a voice. Pyrrha was right, they must be hiding. Not for long.

"That way," Pyrrha says, pointing to the right. I nod and the three of us take off, careful to avoid stepping on anything that would give us away. My adrenalin kicks back in and I am soaring through the trees, ready to finish what I started.

As we get closer I realize that I am only hearing one voice, and she is not trying to be quiet. I cannot quite make out what she is saying, but it sounds like she is either in or close to tears. Maybe I did hit someone after all.

"Just take me with you," I hear the voice say. A cannon rings out around me and I grimace, wondering if I'll still get credit for a kill even if the tribute dies almost half an hour later. That would be disappointing, seeing as I'm falling behind Pyrrha already.

If I was unsure whether the voice was with the dying girl, I'm sure now. Her words get even louder, more frantic, and almost impossible to understand. I point to the left and we make a sharp turn. I see the girl within seconds and I pick up my speed, expecting her to take off when she realizes I'm so close.

She doesn't move and I come to a stop behind her. In front of her is the second girl, a pretty brunette with my knife handle sticking out of her abdomen. A perfect shot, if not a little bit low. There is no way it hit her heart, where I'd aimed, but it probably ruptured her spleen at least.

The girl leans down and takes the dead girl's head in her hands. I'm not sure what to do, so I just stand there. Pyrrha and Odin must be somewhere behind me, but I can't tear my eyes away long enough to look. This isn't normal, what she's doing. Tributes run, why isn't she running?

"I'm not gonna make it without you. I'm sorry."

She kisses the dead girl's forehead and turns to face me. Her bright eyes are filled with fear, but she stares at me head on without looking away. I wonder if she's going to say something, but she doesn't. She closes her eyes.

I swallow thickly. I don't understand what I'm seeing, but I think she's giving up. She didn't even try to run, not that she would have made it but everyone runs from me. I can't make myself move, I can only stare down at this strange tribute.

"What are you waiting for?" Pyrrha appears on my one side and she looks unfazed by the girl's strange actions. I shake myself out of my head and wipe the confused look of my face before turning back to Odin.

I nod down at the spear in his hand. "Kill her."

Odin's face drops for a split second before returning back to his neutral expression. He nods and steps forward, though I'm half expecting him to turn around and run himself. He puts himself directly in front of the kneeling girl and, without more than a second of hesitation, he thrusts the weapon straight down through her skull.

* * *

 ** _Blair Myles, Sector J_**

 ** _Cadria Arias, Sector A_**

* * *

 **A/N: Here we are, now halfway through the arena chapters with only thirteen tributes remaining. I'm going to cut it down to only three tribute POVs and one Gladiator POV per chapter, just because the number of players left is getting low.**

 **These two deaths really hurt to write, mostly because I loved both of these tributes an unhealthy amount. As a pair they had some of the best chemistry, especially after losing two allies during the Bloodbath. This was the death I had planned for them for a while but I have to say I almost backed out of killing them. After a lot of thought I decided it was better for them both to die here than to go through more loss and more hurt. Rest in peace baes.**

 **Chapters are hopefully going to continue to get pumped out this quickly, mostly because I really want to get going on this next project. I'll be splitting my time between this story and making arrangements to begin SS sometime by the end of June.**

 **That's it! Buh-bye!**


	19. A Temporary Hell

_"_ _This is just a temporary hell, not a permanent one"  
― __Alice Sebold_ _,_ _The Lovely Bones_

* * *

 **Arena Day Six**

* * *

 **Demetra Van Sant, 16, Sector I**

* * *

Esme's words echo in my head as I creep through the arena towards the target. Towards _my_ target. _I'll see you on the other side, Demetra. This is all on you._

After what happened at the launch, I didn't think I would ever be able to do what I needed to do to ensure my safety. It was a mistake what happened to that girl. I never meant to hurt anyone except the Gladiators and maybe Everett if the opportunity arises. I only needed the bag from her, I had forgotten that I was holding a weapon. Then she was dead.

Now I am prepared to do it again, but tonight I won't be crying for him.

Our plan is simple and allows for a lot of things to go wrong. Klay and I are going to come at them from different angles just in case they realize we're here and take off. I have the first shot, that's the only thing that is agreed upon. I hope he'll stick to his word, but I'm prepared to beat him too it if I need to. I'm not going to hesitate. I'm going to get one first and if he kills one after me than that's fine. I'm only concerned with getting myself out. I have no responsibility to anyone, especially not someone I met yesterday.

We had been following them for a few hours before they finally stopped for a rest. As I had expected it hadn't been hard at all to find them, their voices were pretty much the only thing to hear in the arena. The hard part was keeping a tail on them without getting too close. I have no doubt that they would be able to see us or hear us or something if we didn't stay far back enough. Even after they stopped we stayed far away and just snuck in to make sure they were still where we'd left them. It's been hours now and, with the cover of darkness all around us, it's time.

Esme had been speaking in my head off and on for the entire day, more than she has spoken to me in the arena total. She was very excited to hear about the plan, even more excited than when I left Everett behind. It's been difficult communicating with her without Klay knowing. I don't want him to have any second thoughts about our plan and that means making him think I have full faith in him.

I can see them now, but only just barely. It was odd to find that they slept with a light nearby, but it has been pretty helpful for us since the sun went down. I'm not sure if they just think no one would try to mess with them or if they're just stupid enough not to be careful, but whatever it is I'll take it.

I can't see Klay so I wait another few minutes so that I can be pretty sure he's in place. My hand itches with anticipation; I am more than ready for this. After seeing what they did at the launch, I don't feel sorry for them. I know that they would kill me in a heartbeat if they got the chance. If they don't think I'm going to do the same then it will be all the easier on me.

When I can't wait any longer I begin to creep forward. I want to get as close as I can before making the throw, preferably a few feet from the target. I've been practicing as we walked today, throwing the knife into trees, but I'm still not all that good. Though if I can get close enough than I won't have to be.

I do my best to keep everything quiet- my steps, my breaths, and even my clothes as they scratch against each other. I'm close now, very close, but I know that the less distance between us the better. I hold my breath as I move past the next tree.

They're resting in a small clearing that is just big enough for all of them to spread their legs. By the light of their torch I can see that all three of them are asleep, another good thing for me. I do my best not to look at any of their faces. Even asleep I have to admit that their expressions terrify me.

Suddenly I hear a branch break and something heavy hit the ground on the other side of the clearing, followed by a slight gasp. _Klay._ I stop dead in my tracks, panic taking over my entire body from the tip of my toes to the top of my head. I hesitate before running back, knowing that if the Gladiators didn't wake up to that then they surely will if I take off.

Her movements are faster than I could have imagined was possible. She sits straight up, tucking her feet under her, and a bow is already poised in her arms. I gasp, stumbling backwards a few steps and throwing my knife blindly before I am able to take off in an all out sprint. I push myself off of trees and through bushes, not caring how much noise I am making. I need to get away and fast. Klay blew the one chance we will probably ever get at being so close to the Gladiators.

I cry out when something hits my leg. I shake it out behind me but that something doesn't come off. I chance a glance down and see both ends of an arrow sticking out of my shin, the pointed end coated in red. It doesn't hurt, but I still stumble through the next few steps. My leg won't do what I need it to do, but I can't give up now.

Both hands hit the tree in front of me before I ever see it. I don't know what makes me look back, maybe some sick hope of not seeing what I know I'm about to see, but I do and I see her. The girl from the clearing, her brown ponytail swinging as she runs towards me and one hand reaching over her back to grasp another arrow. I look down at my feet, begging them to move but they won't.

I see the arrow as it reaches through my neck, pointing at the tree in front of me. I run a hand down to it, hoping that my eyes are wrong but they're not. I choke out a laugh before I feel my legs buckle underneath me and one foot catches on the arrow in my shin. There are two arrows in my body, I'm going to die, and it doesn't even fucking hurt.

* * *

 **Ingo Arvallian, 18, Sector C**

* * *

I'm not sure how unlucky you have to be to see the Gladiators again after losing an ally to them a couple of days ago, but it seems that Quentin and I are about that unlucky.

Quentin's grip on my arm is enough to probably cut off my circulation, but I don't think now is the time to have a talk about his issues. He's been a pain in my side since the day we lost Leighton, and it's been getting on my nerves more and more with each passing day. I've come to think of Quentin and Leighton as like siblings, but I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. I know the last thing Quentin wants to do is lose me too, but it's getting to the point where he just might regardless of how safe he thinks he is keeping me.

We're crouched down in some bushes after a pretty close cut run in with the terrible trio. I'm pretty sure that we've lost them, but Quentin is acting like they could be right beside us. I can't say that I am confident enough in my instincts to bet my life on it being safe to move, though, so I'm good with staying here for a bit.

I can feel the ground underneath us vibrating, and it's not just Quentin shaking beside me. I'm intrigued to say the least because nothing out of the ordinary happens in this place besides seeing those freaking Glads which I have to say is becoming more and more ordinary for us.

I look over to Quentin and I know that he must have felt it too. "Let's go check it out."

"Are you crazy?" He whispers back, giving me a look that tells me he sure thinks I am.

"Please, it's something new," I say quietly. I have to see what is happening, and it doesn't feel like it could be that far away. The vibrations are getting stronger as if whatever it is is getting closer.

After a quick glance around I stand up and shuffle further into the mess of bushes and trees behind us. I can hear Quentin behind me and I smile to myself, taking care so that he doesn't see. I push through another few feet of bush before I see what it is.

"A train," I breathe just as Quentin is coming out of the bush beside me.

"Oh my," he says and takes a step back, pulling me with him. I wriggle my arm out of his grip, sliding back through the bushes so that I can still see the train. Who would have though the arena would have a train? This is beyond perfect.

I stand and emerge out of the bushes a second time, feeling a little bit more than vulnerable without all that green around me. The train isn't far now and I have to get Quentin in on my plan before it passes. I'm not certain he is going to follow me as willingly as last time.

"Jump on," I tell him." When it passes jump on after me."

"Now I know you've gone crazy."

"We need to get away from the Gladiators and this is the perfect way to do that, Quent."

"We're already away from them enough," he says but he doesn't look sure at all. The train isn't more than a few yards away now and now I'm even more sure that we need to be on it when it passes.

"Just for a few minutes then we can get off and continue on our journey to nowhere."

"What if there're people on it already?"

"I don't know about you but the only people that I don't want to run into are behind us and not on the train."

He closes his eyes for a moment and I know I have him. "Fine, but just for a few minutes."

"Whatever you say, boss," I say, giving him a playful salute.

The train isn't going nearly as slow as it looked like it was. By the time it reaches us we are running to catch up as we try and get the courage to jump in through one of the open doors. I set my sights on a door with a handle beside it and make a running leap for it, just as I start to hear the familiar voices come from behind us.

I slide in through the door with quite a bit of struggle and clear away from it. I poke my head out the nearest window and see Quentin still jogging alongside it. I wave towards the door, hoping with all the hope that I still have in me that he will just jump already. I don't know how long it takes but he finally does it, missing the handle but hitting the floor with enough momentum to slide inside.

"Ingo they're there," he says between heavy breaths. "I heard them, quick get down."

No sooner do his words reach my ears than I see the terrible trio emerge from the bushes. There is a confused look on their face that tells me they didn't expect a train either, but it only lasts half a second. I'm still standing at the door looking out at them when one of the boys tosses a knife in my direction.

I don't have time to duck or shout or really do anything. The knife sinks into my side and the weight of the handle causes the blade to slice about a half inch through my skin and clatter to the floor behind me. I'm too surprised to do anything, but Quentin tackles me to the ground with him just as an arrow flies through the open door.

"Oh my- Ingo are you okay?" Quentin asks, his eyes glued to my side. It's not until I take a look down for myself that the pain hits me. I clamp a hand down on the wound and Quentin digs a tarp out of one of the backpacks. I bite down hard on my lower lip, but to my credit I don't cry out until Quentin presses the tarp along with some gauze to my side.

Quentin gets to work tying the makeshift bandage around me as I keep working on not completely freaking out. I just got a knife thrown at me by a fucking Gladiator and it hurts like hell but I lived! I'm not sure if it's the adrenalin still taking its toll on me, but the pride of the moment definitely overpowers the pain in my side.

"How's it feel?" Quentin asks once he's finished.

I look down and see that the tarp is covering most of my lower torso, starting from my waist and ending about halfway down my ass. I burst out laughing at the sight of it, probably confirming to Quentin that I've gone pretty much insane.

"What?" He asks, raising an eyebrow and making me laugh even harder.

"Dude, I needed a bandage. Why the hell did you make me a skirt?"

* * *

 **Odin Jurado, 18, Gladiator**

* * *

Eros throws a sword down into the ground ahead of us. I know he's peeved, but this time it really isn't my fault. I'm sure he's going to make it about me, but I have not been trying to sabotage us. As much as he thinks I've gone soft on the tributes, I am still set on the same goal as he and Pyrrha are- I want to make it out of this place and back home.

We just have different ways of going about it, I guess.

"Eros," Pyrrha warns, pointing at the bandage on his side. This morning we were attacked, something that almost never happens in the Hunger Games, and Eros was hit. I'm not even sure that the girl was aiming at anything when she tossed that knife, but she sure did get lucky. The knife sliced his side, but thankfully it wasn't thrown with enough force to hurt him too badly. Pyrrha stitched him up, spread some sterile gel over it, and put a bandage around it.

"I can't fucking believe you," Eros spits, turning to me as I expected he would. "We're a fucking team and you're choosing some criminals over us. Do you know how stupid that is? We could _die,_ Odin, and it's your fucking fault."

"I'm not choosing anyone over you two," I remind him and he rushes forward, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt.

"I'm the leader of this team and you will fucking listen to me," Eros hisses, his nose just half an inch from mine. "You do one more thing to put our mission in danger and I will make sure it's the last thing you ever do."

I just stare back at him, the tension between us thick enough to break that knife in half. He tightens his grip on my shirt. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," I say softly. I know he's not joking. As a leader he has been trained to deal with subordinates, and right now that is how he sees me. Even after I killed Cadria for him when he couldn't do it, Eros still thinks I am against him.

"Look" Pyrrha says, the word coming out as softly as a breath. I turn back and see she is walking along the tracks, staring at something that I can't see. Eros and I step into line behind her and within seconds I see it- a platform that is definitely manmade.

We reach it in a few long strides up the steps leading to it and what I see as I look out over it is amazing. I can see the entire arena from here, every layer of grass and trees. I can't move for a moment, just taking it all in. Why would they make a place like this where someone can see everything?

"There!" Eros snaps, pointing down where I can see two figures stepping through one of the prairie layers. Pyrrha has an arrow notched in a second and she points the tip straight towards the slow moving tributes.

Her arrow flies and an eruption of electricity scares us backward. Pyrrha scrambles back to the edge of the platform, notching another arrow at the pair. I put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. Somehow I know that this is not what this place is for.

* * *

 **Micah Theron, 18, Sector B**

* * *

I have seen the train go by at least four times a day, but I have still not gone on board. It doesn't feel right, like something might be waiting for me inside. I just watch from the bushes when I feel the vibrations, and stare as the train rolls past. It's mesmerizing.

I have found everything I need to find right here along the tracks. There are bushes with fruits on them, a tiny pond a while behind me, and I even found a dead, half eaten crow for meat. Everything has gone right since I've been here and it's not a coincidence. It's the train, it wants me to survive.

I know that it sounds crazy, but I know that it's true. Nothing bad has happened to me since I came across these tracks. I feel comforted, even though Jovan tells me I need to move on. He hasn't spoken to me today but I know that he will. He will try to rip me away from the only thing that wants to keep me safe and it will not work. I will not go back to the scared nights in the trees and wait for someone to come and kill me.

 _Tribute Micah there's not time, you must lis-_

Jovan's voice is filled with more emotional than I thought the man could ever have, and his words shake me. I wait a second for him to say more, then a minute, then two, but his voice doesn't return. It's just my own thoughts with no one else putting their words in my head. Usually when his words stop I am relieved, but this time I am terrified.

"Jovan?" I whisper, knowing that he will be able to hear me no matter how quiet I speak. He told me that he sees everything that I see, and hears all that I hear. He can pop into my head without my permission unless-

My head snaps up to search the area around me. The only way that Jovan says he is unable to talk to me is when he is cut off by the Game Master, and that only happens when something is about to happen. I jump to my feet, rustling the bushes around me. I don't see anything, not even a cloud in the sky or a broken twig on the ground. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Nothing but the sound of cawing in the distance, and it's getting closer.

I take off running without having to think about it. My legs pump underneath me even as my mind shrieks to stay close to the train tracks. My head knows that they will keep me safe, but the rest of me doesn't understand that. I run downwards, tripping and stumbling over branches and roots as the noise gets closer and closer. The flapping of too many wings joins the familiar calls, and then all I see is black as they come down on me.

I throw my hands in all directions, screaming at the top of my lungs even though all I can hear are the birds. I kick them off of my legs, feeling their beaks poke into my skin. My arms hit many of them and they disappear, only to be replaced by dozens more. Feathers hit my face and I swat them away, but there are too many. One of the birds flies straight into my chest and knocks me to the ground. Tears stream from my eyes as I curl into a ball on my stomach, no longer bothering to swat them away.

The sound of my own sobbing begins to grow in my ears, and the feeling of feathers hitting my back goes away all at once. I don't dare lift my head, fearing that they might just be sitting there waiting for me. I just cry with my face smashed into the grass, holding my arms and legs close as they begin to ache.

I don't know how long it takes before I finally chance a look around me. The black cloud is gone, and I can see only trees and grass in front of me. I lift myself up on my elbows, my hands stinging from the many cuts the crows' beaks made in them. I run a hand down my face, feeling the rough, sliced skin and shuddering at the thought of what I must look like. All exposed skin is covered in cuts and scrapes and I'm sure the rest of me is covered in bruises. My jacket has slices straight through it, as do my pants and shirt, but I'm alive. It doesn't seem real that I could be alive.

I get to my feet and, though I'm a little shaky, I know that I'm going to be okay. I try to glance down at my back to see the damage there when I see it. One lonely crow staring back at me with eyes those are definitely not natural. I jump back from the thing and it tilts its head as if I had just asked it a question. Then it opens its mouth.

If I thought something was wrong with just its eyes then I was mistaken. I have seen birds before; I know what they look like. Birds do not have half-inch long teeth and a snaking tongue inside its beak. Birds do not have human eyes and they do not have perfect, black feathers that look like someone must have painted them on. Birds do not look like this. This is not a bird that should be allowed to exist, not even in nightmares like this.

I take two quick steps towards it and kick it right below its beak. The bird flies back a few feet, its eyes never leaving my face. I run at it, my arms wide to look as big as I can. "Go on, get away!"

The bird tilts its head back the other way and then it does something I didn't think was possible. It smiled at me, with its many sharp teeth and its beak curled up like lips. I gasp and stumble back wondering if it is going to attack me again, but before I even finish the thought the bird has already taken off.

* * *

 ** _Demetra Van Sant, Sector I_**

* * *

 **A/N: Here we are, more than halfway through the arena chapters. After this I believe there will be four more, then the epilogue, then it's all over after over a year. I'll be continuing with four POVs per chapter until the end of this story seeing as there are not many left to write as.**

 **RIP to Demetra, my little spitfire. I enjoyed writing her very much and her part in the alliance was one of my favourites. I always saw her as dying in this type of way, trying too hard too fast to get out. I hope that I did her justice and she will be missed.**

 **I had decided that I would be posting the prologue for my next story after this chapter, and I will be doing that either later today or tomorrow. Hopefully you'll all check it out and consider submitting because I am pretty excited about it!**

 **That is pretty much it, we're nearing the end now and a decision is going to be made about the Victor within the next couple of days. Pretty exciting stuff if you ask me.**


	20. Beauty of Destruction

" _Together, they would watch everything that was so carefully planned collapse, and they would smile at the beauty of destruction."_ _  
_ _―_ _Markus Zusak_ _,_ _The Book Thief_

* * *

 **Arena Day Seven**

* * *

 **Valora Cordett, 18, Sector F**

* * *

I don't know how long it's been since we ventured outside. We have enough food for now and enough water from last time, but that's not the worry right now. Cosmo hasn't spoken to me since yesterday morning, and all he said then was that I need to go. The silence in my head would have been welcomed days ago but not now. Now it just feels like something is about to happen.

Ronan isn't nearly as worried. I haven't told him what Cosmo has been saying because I feel like it would make him think I was going to leave him behind. He hasn't said anything about 'Edrian' or anything about anything lately. He just wants to talk about District Zero which is probably the last thing I want to think about right now.

We were off to a good start. We were talking about hunting down the Gladiators and taking our fates into our own hands. We were going to make a plan and figure out a way to get us out of this hell and into better lives than either of us could have hoped for. Not anymore. He doesn't want to even hear the word 'Gladiator'. I think he is finally breaking down and I don't know what to do to bring him out of it.

 _Valora._

I gasp and Ronan turns to look at me. I won't meet his eye, I'm too concentrated on making sure I heard him right. I heard Cosmo say my name, I know I did. I stare upwards, hoping that he can see me and keep going. For the first time in my entire life I want someone else to tell me what to do.

 _Valora, you have to go._

My eyes well up with tears when I realize that is all he is going to say. It's all he has said for days and it is the one thing I can't be willing to do. Ronan needs me and I need him. I can't leave him behind, not for some warning from someone I don't know. I want Cosmo to give me advice but it has to include Ronan. I will not leave him behind.

"Valora are you okay?" It takes me a moment before I realize that it isn't Cosmo's voice speaking to me. I look over and see Ronan staring at me, his eyes searching my face for the answer to his question.

I let out a long breath, thinking over my answer carefully. "I'm just thinking."

"Oh," he says softly. I know that he will not ask what I was thinking about. He probably thinks that he already knows.

"I was just thinking about what Cosmo said."

"Cosmo? The dude in your head?"

I cringe at the way he says it. He makes it sound insane just like every thought that i voice to him is somehow insane. "Yes. He said to go."

"Go?" He asks.

"Go."

"There's nowhere to go. It's all the same out there."

I want to force the words out but they won't come. I want to tell him that Cosmo means for me to go away from him, but I can't. If I do I know that everything will fall off of my lips like a waterfall of accusation. I will tell him how I want to get out of this place so badly and how I don't want to die. I will tell him that he has to face up to the situation that we're in and fight for himself. I will tell him that I'm not so sure I'm willing to fight for him if he won't for himself first.

I don't have to say anything because he wouldn't have been able to hear me anyways. The noise comes from the outside, then all at once it is surrounding us alongside the black specks that fly in through the opening of our tree.

I shut my eyes, but I can still hear them; I can still feel them everywhere. I wave my arms out in front of me trying to feel for the opening, but my hand only hits bark. The tiny bodies hit me over and over again with heightening force, and then I feel the stinging. It feels like a hundred of those red ants in Zero are biting into me with every one sting from these things. I swat at my arms, my legs, but every one that I hit away is replaced by dozens more.

A scream threatens the back of my throat but I push it away, knowing that the second my mouth opens it will fill with hundreds of black bodies. I give up swatting the insects away and go back to searching for the opening. My hand finds Ronan, but just as quickly he pushes me away. I swipe my hand along the bark, tears running down my face with every new sting, until finally I half fall out of the tiny cave.

I reach back for Ronan, but once again he swats me away. I try again, but this time I'm not even able to find him. All my hands touch when they reach into the tree are hundreds and hundreds of tiny bodies. I grunt in frustration, a dozen bugs flying into my lips and hitting my teeth before I can stop them.

A sting against the inside of my lip makes Cosmo's words rush back into my mind. _Valora, you have to go._ Over and over again until it's all I can think of as the bugs surround me, taking turns burning my exposed skin.

I pull myself the rest of the way out of the trunk without giving myself another second to think. I stumble to my feet, my eyes still tightly shut, and I take off running with my arms straight out in front of me. Ten steps and I can't feel any new stings. Fifteen and the buzzing insects are so far away that I can hardly even hear them. Twenty and I finally let myself open my eyes. Thirty and I catch a glance down at myself, seeing the hundreds of red dots speckling my skin, tiny drips of blood smearing them all together.

Forty steps and I hear the cannon go off. Fifty before I realize that Ronan is dead.

* * *

 **Everett Montclair, 15, Sector H**

* * *

I'm not sure what wakes me up, but the sun in my eyes sure keeps me that way.

I groan and roll over onto my side. From the tip of my shoulder down to my hip feels like one giant ache- one of the many troubles with falling asleep on the ground. It's not that I even had a great bed to sleep n in District Zero, but right now even that flea covered, inch-thick mattress would feel like I was sleeping on a cloud.

Alanis is asleep nearby and lucky for her I don't see any signs that she'll be up anytime soon. We walked all of yesterday and last night, finally stopping after the sun came up this morning because we could hardly feel our feet underneath us anymore. I've been trying to find the train again, but haven't had much luck with that. If only I'd paid better attention when I was running away from Demetra.

What a nice surprise it was to see her smug face in the sky yesterday. Until then I was always almost worried, well worried is not the right word exactly, that she would be back. She killed that girl during the launch and then watched as both of our allies died right in front of her. She didn't even think to help Decker when he was headed backwards out of the train car. She is a monster.

Or _was_ a monster, I suppose.

I chuckle quietly to myself at the joke. I'm in much better company now. I never thought about teaming up with Alanis until I was already with Demetra and them, but man I should have. She knows how to do things like find food and cut bird meat off of their tiny bones. I haven't been so well fed since I found her, and we'll be ever better off once we find that stupid train.

The hair on the back of my neck has stood up before I even hear the sound. It isn't loud at all, but in the near silence that usually settles over the arena it feels like an explosion on my eardrums. My entire body tenses and for a moment I don't move, I don't even breathe.

Then the moment passes and I am scrambling over to Alanis, shaking her shoulders violently with both hands. I want to scream at her to wake up, but even in my panic I know that I have to be quiet. Whoever it is they don't know we're here because their steps are slow and heavy. We have a chance right now and that chance rests on both of us being absolutely silent.

"Wha-" I clamp my hand over her mouth before she even has the chance to finish her thought. I shake my head and look around us, trying to get her to understand and hear what is coming. Her eyes are foggy with sleep and she tries to roll back over on her side. I hold her up, shaking my head quickly. I can still hear the footsteps over all of this and that's enough to stop any thoughts of screaming some sense into her.

I try to pull her up to her feet but she is like dead weight in my arms. I lean in as close as I can so that are faces are nearly pressed together and finally I find the courage to speak. "We have to go, someone's coming."

Alanis doesn't even seem to hear me. Her eyes are still as glassy as they were when I first shook her awake and her limbs just hang down like dead branches. She is exhausted and I know that, but we have to keep going for just a little bit.

"Please, we have to go," I whimper, shaking her only half heartedly now. I'm starting to understand where this is going and I can't fight off the thought anymore. The footsteps are getting closer and in a minute or less they're going to discover that we're here. If it's just another tribute like us we'll be fine but if it's the Gladiators then we're as good as dead if we don't get out of here.

I consider dragging her to some hiding place or throwing her over my shoulder and trying to outrun them. I consider a lot of things in these few seconds but one thought is always louder than the others and it's that thought I know I'm going to listen to. If she's not going to come then I have to leave her behind. I'm not trading in my own safety for anyone, not even someone I think of as a friend.

Her eyes flutter open again just as I drop her back onto the grass and an ounce of hope flickers in my chest. That hope is gone a second later when the sound of footsteps once again hits my ears. I cast one last look at Alanis, her body so exhausted from more than a full day of walking that even danger can't rouse her. Then I search for somewhere to hide.

My eyes land on a nearby tree. It has lots of low branches that look sturdy enough for me to climb up on, and I can see that the inside of it is hollowed out like a lot of the trees in this place. It's like the whole arena gives the appearance that it's alive and awake, but really everything is sleeping and dead just mocking the few living things in this place. I shudder at the thought that everything around me could possibly be dead, and that quite possibly I could be helping add one more dead thing to my surroundings.

I hoist myself up and into the tree, shimmying down as far as I can while still making sure I will eventually be able to get back out. The footsteps are still coming, but it's harder to hear them in here. Maybe they've taken a different course and I've hidden myself away for nothing. Maybe they won't even find Alanis and she'll yell at me for leaving her once she finally wakes up.

All those maybes fall silent when I hear the footsteps pick up speed and a low voice call out from somewhere nearby. "Look, over here!"

My entire body goes cold thinking that maybe they've spotted me, but the footsteps still aren't all that close by. Then I hear it, the piercing scream that tells me I'm not the one they spotted at all. They found Alanis exactly where I left her because I was too eager to save my own skin. They found Alanis because I let them find her. Just like I let Griffin die. Just like I let Decker fall off of the train. Just like I let Demetra go off by herself.

I can't help but think that maybe I was too quick to pass judgement on Demetra. Maybe she's not the only monster that's grown into this place after all.

* * *

 **Quentin Reiss, 18, Sector A**

* * *

I haven't slept and I don't think I'm going to anytime soon. After the close call with the Glads I thought Ingo was fine, hell I think even Ingo thought Ingo was fine, but he's gotten so much worse in such a short time. I'm terrified that if I go to sleep or even go off to get water he'll be dead the next time I see him. I'm scared that in weeks or days or minutes I could be in this place alone and my two friends will be dead.

I can't stop thinking about how I am going to get us out of this mess. We got off the train not too long after we got on, the thing gave me the creeps for some reason, and we took a lot of things with us. I got us each a couple of knives and some packs of food, but there was nothing on that train to help Ingo. No bandages or creams or anything, and trust me I was thorough when I looked.

I've been too freaked out to look at his wound, but he's been cleaning it every few hours with water that I get him from a nearby pond. We've got a great setup here actually, we're near the train in case we need some more quick escapes, there is an almost clear pond less than a ten minute walk away, and we've found a couple of dead and half-eaten crows for meat. All in all not a bad place, but Ingo can't stay here. He needs to get out of this place because if he doesn't he is going to die.

That's where it gets a bit tricky. I know the rules, I've heard them a hundred or more times. The only ways to get out are to be the last one standing, which Ingo does not have time for, or to kill a Gladiator. Pretty much his only option is to kill one of those things, but I have no idea how to make that happen. We purposefully got as far away as possible from them and now we need to find them never mind actually kill one.

I get back up and grab our water bottles. Both of them are still mostly full but I need to do something or I am going to go completely insane. It's night and Ingo is asleep, but my mind is racing. I need to save my friend but how? I wish the answer would just fall out of the sky and hit me in the fucking head because I am out of ideas.

I'm less than a stone's throw away from the pond when I hear voices. I stop mid step, no it can't be can it? I hear... the Gladiators. How did they catch up to us that fast?

I start to turn back around to retrace my steps back to Ingo but something stops me. This must be it, this must be my chance to save Ingo. Somehow the Glads are right under our noses and while that would have been the worst possible scenario a couple of days ago, right now it's the best news I could hope for.

It takes all of my patience not to run back to Ingo, but somehow I manage it. I shake him awake as soon as I get back, and he groans from either exhaustion or pain but right now I don't even care which. "Ingo, I found them. They're right around here, like near the pond."

"Fuck off, man," he says and I only shake him harder.

"Seriously, this is your chance," I plead. "We need to go now and do it."

"Do what?" Ingo snaps. "Just rush in and stab one? Are you insane?"

I lift him to his feet, not even batting an eye at his insult. Ingo has a chance right now and we're going to go figure out how to use this to our advantage _now._ Ingo sighs but lets me get him up with only minor annoyance. I grab one of the biggest knives and stick it in his hand, then another in his pocket. The remaining two go into my pockets, one on each side. This is happening, it has to.

We're back near the pond, but there is no sign of them anywhere. I curse to myself but try not to let my disappointment show on my face. Of course they wouldn't stay here, it's wide open. They were probably only here to fill their water bottles and could be anywhere by now. Except they have to be here, I need them to be here.

"Look," Ingo whispers and that's when I see them. It's only a glimpse of a jacket but that's more than enough to know it's one of them. We both watch the trees and he appears again. This time I can't believe our luck, not only did they not disappear completely but they're not together. I don't see either of the other two, just this lone Glad weaving between the trees in near darkness with one hand on his sword and the other carrying a light.

We walk silently towards him, careful to stay in the shadows as best we can. The Glad walks slowly, like he has nowhere in particular to be. Like he doesn't know we're here at all. Like we could just sneak up behind him and-

We're only a few feet away when he suddenly spins around and a knife I didn't even know he had comes flying towards us. Ingo flattens himself against the ground, but I don't. Whether it is hope or stupidity fuelling me I run right at the Glad, my knives suddenly appearing in my hands and then ripping through his shoulder and side.

I don't know if I took him by surprise or what, but I end up tackling him to the ground. I clamp a hand over his mouth, making sure that the other two won't be coming to his rescue. I don't look in his eyes, I just hold him down. At one point I can feel him trying to lift up his sword and I slam my heel into his wrist. He struggles underneath me, but I don't let up because I can't let up. There will never be a chance like this for Ingo and I have to make sure he takes it.

"Ingo," I breathe. He steps into my field of vision and I can see that he doesn't have his large knife anymore. The Glad throws his body weight over and I nearly lose him, but I keep him underneath me. We're both big guys, and I think he might even be that little bit bigger than I am, but I'm more desperate than he is right now. That and I know he must be hurting, in fact he better be hurting.

"Do it," I huff and Ingo flinches like I've hit him. "Ingo do it, quick before someone comes. Before he bleeds out."

He shakes his head and my heart drops. "Ingo you have to, please."

"You should get out, Quent," he says and for the first time I notice that his breathing is heavier than it was. "You did that, not me."

"Ingo I swear to Panem you get over here right now," I say through gritted teeth, my eyes filling with tears. "I'm not leaving yet, I will but not right now. You're cut is infected, Ingo I saw it yesterday. If you don't get out you're going to die and I'm not letting that happen again."

"I'm not leaving you here," he says. I don't have time for this argument. I don't know if I cut this guy bad enough for him to actually bleed out, but I might have. Ingo needs to be the one to kill him, not me. I'm supposed to stay.

"I'm not letting you die," I say, my voice hitching on the last word. I release some of the pressure on the Glad, but he doesn't move. His face is still and I wonder if maybe he is already gone, but he can't be. There hasn't been a cannon; I still have time.

I reach out and grab Ingo's arm. I lead his hand to the ground where the Glad's sword is only kind of still in his grip. Ingo pulls out the sword, but I have to guide him to the Glad's neck. This is where he has to cut to kill him, I know that. I release my grip on his hand and watch the sword hover above the Glad's throat. It feels like hours before he finally drags the sword across his skin, but only seconds until his cannon rings out around us.

* * *

 **Pyrrha Cortese, 18, Gladiator**

* * *

I see it just before it happens.

I was woken up by something hitting the ground, and I was on my feet and racing towards the noise before my eyes were even open. I wasn't even sure, but I think Odin was close behind. All I could feel was a sense of terror in the pit of my stomach that I had never felt before that girl nearly killed me.

I don't know how long it takes before we reach them, but by then it was too late. I saw the two tribute boys, one of them holding Eros to the ground and the other sliding a sword across his neck. It happened before I could even get an arrow in my quill. For the first time in my life and the only time it ever really mattered I was too slow.

The sound of the cannon had never really meant death to me. It had always meant kill. It had always meant that I was successful in ridding Panem of another worthless tribute. It had never meant death, not until now. Not until I heard the cannon sound for Eros.

I run out of the clearing and tackle the boy to the ground, the one that had been holding the sword. The momentum of my pounce rolls us farther away from Eros, and by the time we stop I already have my fingers gripped tightly around the tribute's throat. His nails are already clawing at my skin to get me to let go. I already have the sound of another cannon on my mind.

"Pyrrha let him go."

My hands loosen only slightly as I turn to face Odin, ready to scream at him for even thinking to tell me to let this tribute go after what he did. The only thing that stops my words is the tears slipping down his face. I turn away from him and back to the tribute, back to the one who just killed one of the only people I care about. My fingers tighten once again and then release all at once as my entire body goes numb.

Odin rushes over and picks me up off of the ground. I want to fight him or yell or scream but I cannot. In the back of my mind I know what is happening but I want to fight it. They are freezing me so that I do not hurt their Victor. They have used my tracker to disable me and I hate them for it.

 _Pyrrha, you know the rules my dear Gladiator. He is my Victor now._

I would have recognized the Game Master's voice anywhere, but where it is usually such a calming sound right now it all but rips me apart. To call that tribute a Victor, to say he belongs to him. I hate it. I am a warrior of the Game Master; I am his. To say that this or any tribute is the same as me is just not right.

"There we have it. The first victory in the 220th Hunger Games goes to Ingo Arvallian of Sector C. Congratulations, to our very first Victor!"

* * *

 _ **Ronan Traupelle, Sector G**_

 _ **Alanis Marcham, Sector H**_

 _ **Eros Abner, Gladiator**_

 _ **Released- Ingo Arvallian, Sector C**_

* * *

 **A/N: Yeah this one wasn't out so fast, but to be fair this was a major chapter. I generally like to do at least one mass death chapter in each of my stories and this will be the most death-heavy chapter after the bloodbath. I hope it didn't come off rushes because I actually took my time for once in my life.**

 **I would like to thank the submitters of Ronan and Alanis. I loved them both for very different reasons, but they were two amazing characters to write. Ronan was simply too kind for the arena, and truthfully he was holding Valora back in the eyes of the Game Master so he was not going to last. Alanis was a hard one to let go, but her plot was over long ago and she will certainly leave her mark on Everett. Thank you to their submitters!**

 **Congratulations goes out to Ingo's submitter! He is the first (possibly only) Victor for this story, and will be released from the arena immediately. While that does mean that his time in the arena is over, I will be writing a piece of his epilogue next chapter to show his release. I loved Ingo since the moment I received him and will continue to love him some more as he will likely make some appearances in** _ **Skipping Stones**_ **and the rest of this universe.**

 **Speaking of** _ **Skipping Stones,**_ **for those of you who don't know/haven't seen I am currently accepting submissions for the sequel to this story. It will detail the 235** **th** **Hunger Games and will take place in the same universe as** _ **All Eyes.**_ **I hope that anyone who has enjoyed thisstory so far will head over and check it out. Submissions for** _ **Skipping Stones**_ **will close on Monday July 4** **th** **at 10PM EST.**


	21. To Fade Away

" _He hunched his shoulders and tried to make himself smaller in the seat. He wanted to disappear, to fade away, not to exist."_ _  
_ _―_ _Lois Lowry_ _,_ _The Giver_

* * *

 **First Tribute Release**

* * *

 **Ingo Arvallian, 18, Victor of the 220** **th** **Hunger Games**

* * *

As soon as the girl is off of me I can feel myself moving downwards. My neck hurts and my hand itches where the knife handle still touches my skin. For a second I think maybe this is what it feels like to die, because after all I must be dying. My side is infected and I feel so weak I think I've fallen down several times today, in fact I'm not even sure. I have never seen someone who looks as bad as I do live. Not once.

But I'm not dying because everything still hurts.

I don't think death is supposed to hurt. Besides, my family always told me that when you die you go up. Up to what I don't think any of us really knew, but up was always the direction not down. So no I'm not dying.

I'm not sure whether the darkness comes because I close my eyes or if I really am in darkness. I feel so much worse than before now that Quentin is not hovering over me. He made me feel like I had to be okay, because if I wasn't than he wouldn't be either. Now without him the full pain breaks through and wraps around me like a thick, all consuming blanket of pain. My head hits the ground and it's still dark, but I don't even think I care anymore.

"Get him on the stretched!" Someone yells from afar. I don't know the voice but it kind of sounds familiar, like a song that I've only just forgotten. It still brings forward memories but I can't quite reach them.

Hands grab at my arms and legs and all of a sudden I'm going up. This must be it, I think to myself, up is the right direction so maybe now I'm dying. That thought is interrupted when my body slams down on an only somewhat comfortable board and more hands grab at me. Then I feel something prick my arm and my eyes fly open.

There are people standing over me, a lot of them. Men and women with masks covering half their faces and their eyes searching my body. Their hands reach out and touch me, moving my arms away from my chest and moving my head so that I am staring straight up at the ceiling. I peer down at them but I don't even think they realize that I am alive.

"What's happening," I breathe, but my voice is lost amongst the scrambling feet and beeping machines that they bring in to surround the bed that I'm moved onto. Everything is happening so quickly that I can't even think to react fast enough to stop them from doing whatever they're doing. It doesn't really matter, I reason, since I'm going to die soon anyways.

"Blood pressure is dropping!" One of the women yells, but I have no idea what that means. Two hands press firmly down on my side and I can't help but scream out in pain.

For the first time, one of the men looks directly at my face. My eyes move wildly around the room, but they are the only part of my body that I can move. My breaths become even faster, but it doesn't feel like I am breathing at all. Why can't I move?

The man grabs both of my shoulders and forces me to look up at him. His eyes are hard and soft at the same time, but they hold mine. He reaches up and pulls his mask to one side so that I can see he is trying to speak to me. "We're going to help, son. You're going to be okay."

I don't believe him. I can't feel the pain anymore, but I am gripped by a sort of panic that I have never felt before. Not when I was taken from my home, not when I was taken to the Capitol, not when I was told I was going to have to fight to the death, not when Leighton died or when I got hit by the Glad's knife. Not anytime except right now.

"He's bleeding through the gauze," one of the other men tells the man who'd spoken to me.

The man turns to him but his hands don't leave my shoulders. "Push aproptinin. Put new gauze over the old stuff. We just have to stop it until we can get him upstairs. Move!"

By his last word everyone in the room with me is doing just that. More hands press white, fluffy paper into my side and even though it doesn't really hurt I can still feel the amount of pressure that they are putting on it. Someone presses another needle into my other arm and pours something into a bag that is attached to the end of its tube. A tingly feeling runs through my arm at the place where the needle enters me and then it washes over the rest of my body. I feel nauseous and tired and dizzy all at the same time.

"Don't close your eyes, Ingo," the man over me says firmly. "Not until I tell you to. We need to get you upstairs first."

I nod slightly, but even so the length of each blink gets longer and longer until he once again shakes me awake. I think I might throw up, but I don't have the words to say so right now. I don't even think I have enough energy to actually do it, but my stomach flips inside of me all the same. My eyes burn from staying open, but somehow I know that if I blink I won't be able to open my eyes again.

It feels like such a long time that I lay there, my eyes just barely staying open and immense pressure on my side. The man whose name I can't even ask stands watch over me, trying to speak but his words are more often than no drowned out by the chaos around him. A woman in white comes into my vision beside him and he turns to smile down at me, allowing the woman to place a clear container over my nose and mouth.

"You can close your eyes now. Everything is going to be okay."

* * *

 **A/N: Here is the chapter as promised. I decided to give Ingo a chapter all to himself where I could continue with what happened after he was declared a Victor. He has been taken into a hospital in the Capitol where doctors will attempt to save his life. We'll see at the end of the story whether or not they actually succeed.**

 **Next chapter will continue on with day eight, and after that there will only be two chapters of arena remaining. After that will come a prologue as well as obituaries for all fallen tributes, most likely featuring how their families are coping without them.**

 **For those of you that have yet to, please check out** _ **Skipping Stones**_ **the sequel to this story which is currently accepting tributes until July 4** **th** **, 2016. My profile has all the details you need for that.**

 **That's all til next time!**


	22. So Like Fear

" _No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear."_ _  
_ _―_ _C.S. Lewis_ _,_ _A Grief Observed_

* * *

 **Arena Day Eight**

* * *

 **Odin Jurado, 18, Gladiator**

* * *

Something inside of Pyrrha snapped when Eros died.

I had thought of this possibility a million or more times since we were chosen as Gladiators- what if one of us died in the arena? The answer had always seemed so logical, that the ones remaining would continue fulfilling our duty and postpone mourning until after the end of the games. Nothing about right now is logical, though, because this is real life and nothing really ever goes as planned.

Eros is gone, and not just gone for the day. He bled out in front of us and there was nothing we could do to help him. He should never gone as far away from camp as he did, but he didn't deserve to die for that mistake. Leaders don't die, they're not supposed to. The third, hell sometimes the second can die but not the leader. Eros was never supposed to go like this.

"Keep up," Pyrrha hisses at me. I look up to see that she is staring directly at me, her eyes still red but of course I don't point that out. I just nod and continue walking.

She doesn't take another step. Instead her hands slam into my chest and I am stumble back, my hand patting the knife in my pocket instinctually.

"We don't stop because he's gone, Odin. That's not what happens now." I can do nothing but nod, knowing that now is not the time to get into it with her. "We still have to do this."

"I know," I say softly.

She takes two fast steps towards me and is in my face before I even blink. "I'm the second, so I'm in charge now. You're not going to even breathe unless I tell you to do so. You've done far too much damage to us already, and you're not going to get me killed too."

I can't believe it. Is she really trying to say that I'm the reason Eros died? "What are you saying, Pyrrha. I didn't kill him that tribute did. He made a mistake, not me."

She slaps me hard across the face, tears welling up in her eyes but it's not with grief this time. "Don't you dare say anything about him. You're the one that put a wedge through our team. You're the one that let tributes get away. We could have been out of here by now, and Eros could have been with us. This is all your fault!"

"I miss him just as much as you do!" I spit. "You don't get to blame this on me, you don't. He was my best friend too. You don't get to make me feel like shit because we fought a few days ago. Don't you think I already feel like shit enough? Don't you think I wish I'd have made things easier on him? Of course I do, but that still won't bring him back."

There is silence between us for a long time. Tears sneak down both of our faces but I'm not sure if they're more out of sadness or frustration. Finally, she bends down and picks her bow up off the ground where she must have dropped it. She gives me one last look and walks away.

"You listen to me now," she grunts over her shoulder. "I'm not letting you get in the way of what we're here for. Not again."

* * *

 **Everett Montclair, 15, Sector H**

* * *

I haven't stopped shaking for hours. Everything aches- my arms, my legs, my chest, hell even my mind hurts like nothing I've ever felt before. After Alanis' cannon went off it was like everything finally clicked into place for me. The two things that every ally I've had has had in common are that they've died and that they met me first.

I'm the common element here. I don't have bad luck in choosing allies like I told myself after Demetra's image was in the sky. I'm the bad luck. I'm the problem. I'm the reason that they all died.

I didn't take Griffin's injuries seriously, and they killed him. I started that fight with Demetra which made Decker freak out and fall off the train. I left Demetra and she died within a couple of days afterwards, probably in some horrible way. I didn't help Alanis get away from the Gladiators and they killed her.

All of it was because of something I did or didn't do. I'm the one that let them die. If they'd never met me they could all still have been alive. Demetra would have treated Griffin's wound better if I hadn't pushed for us to move along. Decker and Demetra would have still been with him, safe and sound. Alanis could have continued surviving by herself.

The only thing I didn't do was hold the weapon that killed them. Everything else was my fault.

"Just come and fucking kill me already," I whine, not that anyone is around to hear me. I haven't heard a single footstep for hours, much less seen anyone. I'm all alone and that's one thing I'm sure of. Another is that everyone is better off with me alone except me.

I've never gotten used to having no one, even with a year of practice. When I was sent to District Zero I had no one, and that was never going to change until I was taken by the recons. In a way that was the best thing that has happened to me in a long while, even knowing that my fate was pretty much sealed since that day. I knew I was going to die and I didn't even care because at least for a couple of weeks I wouldn't be alone anymore.

I had Griffin, Demetra, and Decker. Then I had Alanis. Now they're all dead and somehow I'm all alone again. Is it crazy to say that I'd rather be dead than alone? Maybe but it's true. If I had a choice to spend the rest of my life alone or die today my choice would be simple. I'd take that bullet in a heartbeat.

I hear something and my pulse speeds up. I can't help myself, I'm excited at the prospect of there being someone again. I'm a monster that loses everyone he ever meets, but I still want someone. Even if they're going to die tomorrow I still want them.

I really am a monster, aren't I?

I don't even care right now, I just need to find the someone that's here. I just need them to stay with me even if they're going to die soon after.

I dust myself off and search my surroundings for some sort of clue as to where the steps are coming from. I can't see anyone, but I can just hear them. For a second I wonder if my ears are playing tricks on me but that can't be. I'm completely sane as far as I know. There must be someone nearby. There has to be.

"Over here!" I yell into the trees, hoping to hear someone call back to me. I listen for only a moment before I realize where the steps are coming from. Then I take off in that direction as fast as my legs will carry me.

I can see him now! Not very far away is a tall boy wearing a uniform just like mine, only slightly different. I hadn't even stopped to think that I might have been chasing after the Gladiators, but now I'm filled with relief. It's someone like me and they're alone too. I'm going to have someone again after I never thought I would.

Something hits me square in the chest, but I take several more steps before the pain really hits me. I look at the boy in front of me and his face is the very picture of surprise, like he too has no idea what is going on. Then my knees buckle underneath me and I find myself lying with my head turns up towards the sun.

I see it then. The long, thick pole that is sticking straight out of the lower part of my chest. The blood pooling around the weapon and staining my black shirt appear as if its soaked in water. I try to take a breath but it doesn't feel like any air reaches my lungs. The pressure on my chest is unbearable, like if an entire house had fallen on me, and I can't breathe. Why can't I breathe?

"No, oh Panem no!" I can feel hands patting across my head and chest and I know that it must be the boy. The one I had seen before this thing got in my body. Did he throw the pole? Is there anyone else here that could have? Maybe it was the Gladiators, but how would either of us still be alive if the Gladiators were here?

He must have thrown it. This boy that I don't know and that couldn't know me just tried to kill me. I can't help the betrayal bubble up in my throat. I wanted to have him join me and he stabbed me. I just wanted a friend and he tried to kill me.

"I'm sorry," the boy says between fast breaths. "I thought you were them. Oh my Panem, what do I do? Do you know first aid? How do I get this out?"

"Get away from me!" I try to yell, but it comes out so coarse that I can't even recognize my own words. Everything hurts but I ignore it. I ignore the blurriness of my vision and the fact that I can't breathe or move because all I want is for this monster to get his hands off of me. I don't want him to help even if he knew how. He's a monster, just like... just like...

 _Me._

* * *

 **Micah Theron, 18, Sector B**

* * *

I hear the yelling a good distance away and, probably against my better judgement, I take off in that direction. I have been lost for so many days without the train tracks to keep me company, but I know that I will find my way back. The train will call me home. It has to. I don't have any other options right now.

After the attack by those birds I have seen them everywhere. Flocks of them up in trees, staring down at me from their high branches and smiling at me when I look up too long. They're watching me and I don't know what to do to keep them from attacking me again. I know that they must be planning to kill me but I also don't know what's stopping them. My only hope is the train tracks where there are no crows and I have protection.

I have to hope that the yelling is the train's way of calling me back to it.

My legs tire after a few minutes and I slow to a quick jog just in case I might need this energy later. The crows watch me from the trees; I swear there must be thousands of them in this place because I hardly see a tree without at least a couple of them. I keep my eyes down and watch the grass run beneath me. I don't want to see their toothy smiles again, not when I see them every night in my dreams.

I almost don't see them as I run past, but my eyes lock on them just before they disappear behind the trees. I turn on my heel and head back towards them, careful not to approach them too fast since I'm not sure who exactly they are.

There are two boys, the larger one holding the smaller and a long rod piercing through the smaller's chest. The larger boy is crying and I don't see any movement from the smaller, but I haven't heard a cannon yet. Cannon means death and no cannon means he has to still be alive. Maybe I can help, I think to myself. I don't know much about first aid but there is probably something I could do.

I take a step towards them.

 _Micah, be careful._ Jovan says softly as if the boys might be able to hear him. _Speak before they see you._

I nod, still unsure that he is even able to see the acknowledgment. I hardly hear from Jovan at all. Actually not since a few hours after the crows attacked me. He told me to be careful and that he didn't want to run out of time with me. I didn't understand, but he didn't answer any of my questions after that. I haven't heard his voice for so long I had almost forgotten he's still here with me.

I take another step out of the shade of the trees, but I know neither of them has seen me yet. I clear my throat and speak, using the kindest voice I can while still making sure they can hear me. "What happened? Can I help?"

The larger boy looks up towards me and nods. His eyes are tear-soaked and frantic, but he doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands. I take a few steps towards him, still moving slowly so that I can say I'm being careful. I need to come up with a plan. I don't have anything to pack around the weapon, but maybe one of them does. Maybe-

My thoughts are cut off by the sound of cannon fire and the larger boy lets out a loud sob. He lowers the smaller boy to the ground and scrambles back away from him. i let out a long sigh. I shouldn't have taken so long. I should have run over to help. I should have done all of these things but part of me knows it probably would not have mattered. The boy had a spear through his chest and a shirt full of his blood. He didn't stand much of chance.

I reach down and pull the spear out of his chest. It had been in a lot deeper than I thought, and more blood begins to ooze out of the hole. I put the weapon down beside him and squat down beside him. I don't know this boy, I can't even recognize his face, but I don't want this to be the state that other boy sees him in last. I pull up the zipper on his jacket and close his eyelids. When I'm done I could almost believe that he was simply asleep.

"Thank you," the older boy says and I turn to see he was watching the whole thing.

"What happened?" I ask.

He bites down on his bottom lip and speaks his answer softly. "The Gladiators hit him. I managed to get us away, but he went unconscious. I didn't know what to do."

I reach down and put a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think there was anything you could do. At least he knew you were there."

He nods and bows his head down. I can't imagine how he must be feeling, seeing someone die in that horrible of a way. I have seen death, but not this close up. It makes my stomach churn just looking at the boy and knowing that he will never wake up again.

"Do you want to stay with me?" He asks after a while. "There are only four of us left. Three of us can make it out, but I think we need each other."

I hesitate before answering. I had my mission already set in my mind, but he makes a good point. I didn't know there were so few tributes left, but I know that there are two Gladiators left alive. Three of us can make it out of this place. _I_ can make it out of this place.

"Yes," I nod finally. "I would like that a lot."

He looks up at me and cracks a half-hearted grin, but the sadness in his eyes doesn't go anywhere. He reaches out a hand and offers it to me. "I'm Quentin."

"Micah," I say, taking hold of his hand. I have a team again, even if it's just one person, and it feels a lot better this time.

Quentin stands up and begins to walk away, motioning me to follow him. He doesn't even look at the younger boy until I point down at the spear beside him. Even then he flinches and turns away, telling me to take it if I want it but that he will never touch it again.

* * *

 **Valora Cordett, 18, Sector F**

* * *

I knew that something was wrong last night, but I didn't want to admit it to myself. Now I have no choice but to admit it.

Every time I examine the bites they look worse than the last time. Even last night a good amount of them were oozing green-yellow gel and they burned like crazy, but this morning they were much worse. Now at late afternoon my skin hardly looks human at all. Every inch of me is red and swollen, and puss runs down my arms and legs in thick dribbles. My skin feels searing hot and freezing cold at the same time, and my legs don't seem to listen to me anymore when I tell them to walk.

I'm slowly losing control of myself and I want none of that. I don't want to die like this, of infection that stems from every inch of my visible skin. I have seen what happens; there are more than a fair share of people in District Zero that die like this. I don't want to slowly lose my mind over the next few weeks or days or hours and wait for the infection to reach somewhere so important I just stop living.

I don't have any choice in whether I live or die, those bugs took that choice away along with Ronan. Right now I have the choice to wait for this to kill me or to die my way. I've already made that choice, no matter what Cosmo says. He has been talking me through this off and on since it happened, but nothing he says is working. He wants me to wait it out and hope that the others kill each other so I can get out by default. I know how many of us are left, and I can't see me being able to wait that long. Cosmo hasn't spoken to me since I told me I am going to kill myself.

I had a knife at some point but that's long gone. Maybe I could drag myself to a pond and drown, or find something poison to finish off the job for me. The best option I have right now is the Gladiators. They can't be that far off and if they find me I know they'll kill me, but I don't want to wait for them to stumble across me.

I am ready to die now, even if I am more terrified than I've ever been. I just don't want to die like this- in a shivering ball curled up against rough tree bark. I want to have some choice.

"Come get me!" I scream, the action making my body cry out in protest. I don't care; I keep going no matter how much it hurts. "Over here you morons! Come on!"

I continue on like this until I am unable to yell any longer. My breaths come in heavy bursts and the shivering feels stronger than ever, but I know this is what I need to do. I scream out one more time and then my eyes close on their own before I can stop them.

"Is she one of us?" I hear a voice whispering. "I haven't seen her before."

"She has to be," a second voice answers, also male. "She's not one of them. I've seen the girl pretty close up, believe me."

"Then what do we do?" The first voice asks again.

Finally I am able to force my eyes back open and I see two tall boys standing over me from a few feet away. I can't help but smile, that is until I realize who they aren't. They're not the Gladiators, they can't be because they're dressed like me.

I search each of them and see that one of them is holding a long spear. The smile returns to my groggy face and I am suddenly a lot happier to see them. They're not who I had hoped would show up, but they can do it. Another wave of shivers attacks my body and the boys gasp and move in closer.

"What do we do? Can we help her?" One of the boys asks the other.

I'm unsure whether I will be able to speak, but words begin to pour off my lips in short bursts. "Kill me. Do it fast. Please."

There is silence above me, but I know they must be looking at each other and probably at me as well. Here I am some girl they've never seen before begging to die, but that's all there is to this story right now. If they don't kill me I'll still die. They have to know that. Please let them know that.

"Who are you?"

I think they might be talking to me, but a third voice answers before I can even think to. "She's going to die anyways. You should do what she asks."

"Why don't you do it?" One of the first two asks. I half-wonder what is happening but my eyes wouldn't be able to focus on anything if I used every bit of my strength. I can't _do_ anything; I'm not even sure if I can speak again. I'm dying and I just want it to be over. I'm in so much pain.

I can kind of see a figure hovering over me, the shadow of a face just barely biting at the edge of my blurry vision. It's the voice of the third boy that I hear, this time much closer as if he might be only inches away from me. "Is this what you want?"

Shivers rip over my body, but I try so hard to nod. None of my muscles show even a sign that they've heard me, but my lips are thankfully able to form that single word. "Yes."

There is more silence and I think he must have left me, but I can swear I feel his breath warming my cheek. I close my eyes and the darkness that greets me is more soothing than I'd thought it would be. Yes, the answer is definitely yes. Suddenly I know with certain clarity that I am ready to die.

"What's your name?" The third voice asks, and this time I know he is asking me by the softness of the words.

I try to choke out my name but I'm unsure he will understand it. My jaw clenches as my body breaks out into another batch of violent shivers. I want this to end, I just want it to be over. I don't know what comes next and I've always been afraid to find out, but I'm ready to know. I remember someone telling me that some part of you always knows that you're ready to go.

That same part of you also tells you when you've finally gone. As death greets you with its arms wide open, you just know to allow it to take you away.

* * *

 _ **Everett Montclair, Sector H**_

 _ **Valora Cordett, Sector F**_

* * *

 **A/N: Hello all! This chapter took a little while for several reasons, one being that I decided to cut the arena chapters down to only nine instead of ten. The other being that my housemates had a major issue that required a lot of my attention these past few days. Finally I've been able to finish that last POV, but next chapter might be a bit late as well.**

 **The next chapter will be the last arena chapter, and after that there will be the epilogue where we will hear from Ingo once again as well as whoever else makes it out (both tributes and Gladiators included). Exciting stuff!**

 **Everett and Valora were two of my favourites from the beginning of this story. They were incredibly different but killing each of them was incredibly difficult. Everett was a riot and he really challenged me to get all his layers to shine through. Valora too had many layers, but she also happened to be one of my favourite type to write which is the strong, do-what-needs-to-be-done, sort of selfish character. I will miss both of them, but unfortunately I could not bring them along to the finale.**

 **This story is coming to an end very quickly, so if anyone is interested in reading more form this verse I invite you to join the start of** _ **Skipping Stones**_ **which has just begun. It will detail the Hunger Games 15 years after this one, and is sure to be a fun journey. The deadline for submissions has passed, but I always welcome anyone to read along.**

 **That is everything from me for now. I am looking forward to the finale next chapter where our final five- Quentin, Micah, Klay, Pyrrha, and Odin- will battle it out to the bitter end. It's sure to be an exciting end to this drawn out story.**


	23. Murder

" _I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for."  
― __J.K. Rowling_ _,_ _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_

* * *

 **Arena Day Nine**

* * *

 **Klay Deraval, 18, Sector E**

* * *

I don't think I would be able to sleep even if I wanted to. There are too many things racing through my head, too many things to think about before daytime comes. I have been alone for quite a long time in this place and right now I honestly miss those times. Now, being so close to getting out, I can't let anything happen to stop me from winning this game.

Quentin and Micah are nice enough, but I can't and don't trust them. They have been together for possibly a lot longer than they say, and it doesn't take a genius to know that this puts me at the bottom of their food chain. I know the rules and I'm sure that they do as well. Sure, the three of us could technically all get out, but the likelihood of that happening is pretty slim. The Gladiators are good, a lot better than I thought before they killed Demetra. From what I understand this is what they're been preparing for since childhood. I'm being realistic to think that at least one more of us is going to be dead by tomorrow morning. I just have to worry about survival for me and only me.

I look across the small clearing to my two temporary allies. They're both fast asleep and have been for a few hours now. I said I was going to sleep also, but even then I knew I'd be awake all night. The decision for the three of us to team up is an obvious one but that doesn't mean I'm going to trust them wholeheartedly. Our alliance is out of convienience and nothing else. I'm certain that if later today we run into some trouble with our plan neither of them will think twice about leaving me behind. I'm not going to do any differently for them.

The plan that Quentin came up with is away too similar to Demetra's for me to feel comfortable going into it. The only difference is that instead of approaching on foot we are going to climb between trees to try and surround them from three angles. I've gotten to be okay at climbing and I'm pretty sure I'll be fine with that part so long as I take my time. After that we are to wait for Quentin to give the signal and then fire everything we've got at them, which honestly isn't much. Each of us has about two tries to make contact, and I've told them to concentrate on the female Gladiator. After Demetra's plan she was the one to react fastest, plus she has the weapon with the longest range. If we don't want to get shot right out of our trees then we have to get to her before she sees us first.

I pull my knees in closer to my chest. In all honesty I'm terrified for how this plan is going to end. I had so much faith in Demetra's plan and look how that worked out, and this time I'm already certain that one or more of us is going to die. I just want it to work so badly, but I can't quiet the voice in my head that tells me to run away and let Quentin and Micah walk to their deaths without me.

For now I have made my choice and I am sticking to it, but one of my best qualities is the ability to be flexible. Some might call it cowardice, but I call it common sense. If I would have stayed to help Demetra all those days ago I would have been killed right along with her. If I wouldn't have backed out of deals when it looked dangerous, well I wouldn't have ended up in the arena because I would have died a long time ago.

Making decisions on the fly is important and I will continue to use it to look after myself. At the first hint of trouble today I will be out of there so fast they'll never even realize I was there. If that makes me selfish than I am the most selfish guy you'll ever meet, but at least I'll still be alive.

I'll be alive and hopefully by the end of today I'll be home.

That's right, home. The Game Master said that we could go anywhere in Panem that we want after we win and I want to go home to District Zero. I want to see my sister again even though she probably thinks I'm dead by now. I want to go back to a place where I can guess what's going to happen; a place where I will be in control. I hate the feeling of helplessness that I have gotten from being in the arena and I never want to feel it again. Even if it means that danger is going to wait for me at every corner I want to go home.

An enemy you know is better than an enemy you don't, that's what my father always said. He wasn't a smart man and never will be, but those words are some of the most important I've ever heard. Maybe when I get back I'll talk to him. Maybe he'll understand me better or want me more after he thinks he has lost me.

Hell I don't know what I'll do when I get home, I just know that I have to get there. I'm going to ride this plan as far as it will take me and hope that it can take me closer to home. If I have to walk the rest of the way back alone then that's just what I'll do.

* * *

 **Odin Jurado, 18, Gladiator**

* * *

"Three more," I say to no one in particular. "Three more and we can go home."

"Three is nothing. As soon as we find them they're as good as dead. We just have to find them."

I smile when I realize that she is answering me. Pyrrha has hardly talked to me except to yell, not that she was ever very talkative to begin with, and I've really missed having someone to talk to. Eros was always that someone for me. Before we became Gladiators the three of us never fought, especially not Eros and I, but now every word turns into a battle.

"You're right," I say. "We're basically home already."

She sighs and slides down beside me. The two of haven't been this close since we lost Eros and I wonder for a moment if one quick breath will be enough for her to pull away. I miss Pyrrha obviously in a different way than I miss Eros, but I miss her all the same. Eros and her have been part of my life for longer than anyone else. I've been wondering for a while if maybe I am going to lose them both to the Games.

"I miss him," she whispers and when I turn towards her I can see her eyes shining with tears. My hand automatically comes to rest on her shoulder and she doesn't push it away. It might be wishful thinking but I could swear that she moved in a little closer.

"I know," I say softly. "I miss him too."

"I know," she nods and turns away for a moment to wipe at her eyes. I've only seen Pyrrha cry once before and it was during last year's Hunger Games. She stayed in our room for days, refusing to talk about it or come even come to training until one of the staff forced her into class. It was Eros that told me about her friendship with Hans, the only male member of that year's team. The Hunger Games is playing at all hours in the Academy. Pyrrha watched her friend nearly die more times than I can count.

She's a strong one, probably the strongest person I've ever met actually. Pyrrha never tells anyone anything and that's just how she is, but I have wanted so long to know if she trusts me. Now as her head rests against my shoulder I'm certain she does.

This is her way of apologizing, even if she will never say the words out loud and I'll never ask her to. We're both down a best friend and terrified at what is going to happen next. We're both people even though neither the Capitol nor the tributes probably consider us as that. Gladiators aren't and never have been machines. We're real people with real heartbeats and a real desire to just stay alive.

* * *

 **Micah Theron, 18, Sector B**

* * *

I squirm my way up the tree branch, holding my breath with every movement as if that might help me move along undetected. The trees brush against me, but it sounds no different than the wind whistling through the leaves. Every inch closer brings up a new rush of discomfort. How long can I really go like this?

It has been a long while since the three of us separated, probably at least an hour or more. We zeroed in on where the Gladiators were camped out and as the minutes pass by I can't help but notice how many things this plan is counting on. We're counting on them not having moved from that area. We're counting on them to be asleep or at least relaxed by the time we get there. We're counting on them not hearing our approach. There are a whole lot of things that can go wrong.

I can't stop my mind from wandering back to the train. If I could only have made my way back there I wouldn't even be doing this. I would never have run into Quentin and Klay and that dead boy. I would never have let him coerce me into this plan. I wouldn't be inching towards the two most dangerous things in this arena.

I wouldn't be possibly on my way out.

 _Stop,_ I hear Jovan say and his voice nearly makes me fall right out of this tree. _If you move any closer they're going to cut me off. Don't speak, just listen. Can you do that?_

I just barely stop myself from answering aloud, instead nodding my head quickly. Jovan is supposed to be the one helping me through this, even if I don't always like what he says. I am doing what he has wanted me to do from the very beginning so maybe he can help me now. I just need help from someone so that I can go through with this because even the comfort of the train can't hold a candle to the world outside of this arena. That's where I want to be, even if it's not safe that's where I want to be.

 _Good. You have a real chance here, tribute Micah. This plan is good, but there is one thing I want you to consider. I want you to fire your machete before he gives the signal. I want you to be first, but you have to be accurate. Do this and I'll be seeing you on the other side._

"I'm scared," I whimper so softly that I'm not even sure I said it aloud. Not until Jovan answers me.

 _You can do this, tribute Micah. You've come this far._

I want to ask him to stay and talk to me. I don't care that his voice has creeped me out since the first day or that I need to get moving so I catch up with the others. I want to get out but damn does it feel good to hear someone believe in you. I just want him to talk to me forever.

But he won't. He leaves just as suddenly as he appeared and the crippling emptiness fills my head once more. I take a deep breath and keep going because what choice do I have. I am just barely holding onto a tree, inching towards the one thing that could both kill me and give me a new life. I carefully swing myself into another tree, dropping down onto one of the thicker branches with only a slight creaking protest from the tree.

That's when I see them, or rather it. I see the light between the leaves of my tree and I know that it's them because, well, who else would it be. There is only the three of us and the Gladiators and we're sure not going to be the ones to advertise where we are.

I shimmy down to a lower branch so that I can see better. I would have known they were Gladiators just by looking at them. Their clothes are as dirty and wrinkled as mine are, but their faces are hard whereas ours are shattered. They are not one of us, not by a long shot. I don't even think they look human.

Even more gruelling than the sight of the Gladiators is the sound that comes after it. I would know the flapping of those huge, black wings if I heard it from miles away. I crouch down further in the trees, hoping beyond hope that they just won't see me. They're close, uncomfortably close, and there are thousands of them. I chance a look around and see dozens perched on every free branch, all looking towards the clearing.

One crow sits down on the branch above me, and another on the branch a few feet to my left. I try to hold in a whimper, but quickly realize they are not looking at me. All of their beady, black eyes are staring straight at the clearing and straight at the two Gladiators that are inside. They're not here to hurt me, they're here to watch.

I keep moving. Jovan's plan is still at the back of my mind when I finally catch sight of Klay from across the clearing. The light dances off his eyes just enough for me to see them, but I know immediately that it has to be him. Quentin should be on the other side, then, but I can't spot him. I search a while longer, knowing that I will not be able to go through with going against his plan. I need to wait for him to get here and then he'll give me the signal. Everything will go off without a hitch and all three of us will get out of this place.

We'll kill these things that the Capitol sent before they kill us. That's what Quentin said last night, called them 'things' and after seeing them I understand. They're not people because people could never do what they've done. They're not people because they look strong and sure when they should look weak and afraid. They're not people.

Except nothing ever goes off without a hitch, especially not in a place like this.

It feels like I am seeing everything at half the speed making the seconds stretch into minutes and even hours. I see the silver shimmer move in front of Klay's eyes and then I hear it slide through fabric and into skin. He should be moving back but his eyes don't even blink. He didn't follow the plan but that's not what my first thought is. My first thought is that Klay has to get out of where he is and fast.

My eyes catch motion below him and I know that it has to be the Gladiators. It probably doesn't take them more than a couple of seconds to spot him, but each of those seconds ticks by painfully slowly. It's the boy who stretches back his arm and launches a blade in Klay's direction. The girl is on the ground still, but even with a machete in her arm she is far from dead.

The boy's shot did not miss. Klay's body almost immediately falls from the tree with a sound similar to flour bags hitting the kitchen floor. He's gone before he even hits the grass and the cannon that follows him makes my ears ring until I can hear nothing else.

"No!" I shout, stuffing my hand into my mouth before the entire word has even left my lips.

* * *

 **Quentin Reiss, 18, Sector A**

* * *

I had only just reached the Glads' clearing when I heardsomeone fall. Immediately I panic, trying to look around and see who it was. To my right I can see Micah so clearly that I don't even think he is trying to hide himself, but it wasn't him that fell. That leaves only one possibility.

"No!" The screech echoes in my ears as I huddle down further into the tree leaves. It was Klay that fell, but Micah must have seen him. The cannon has already told me that Klay is dead but if Micah can get out of here he has a chance. We can retreat together. We can regroup. We can make a new plan and it will work.

Even as these thoughts reel through my mind I know that I will not be retreating. Micah blew his chance by giving away his location, but I still have a chance as long as they don't realize I'm here. After a few moments, however, curiosity gets the better of me and I take a peek between the tree leaves at what has to be the second most gruesome scene I have ever seen.

The first person I spot is Klay to my left. He is facing towards me, a knife probably less than the length of my palm sticking straight out of his forehead. His eyes aren't looking at me but they're staring blankly in my direction. Was he thinking that I might come to his rescue? Is that what his last thoughts were before someone ended his life? He thought of me- a stranger he had known for less than a day?

Then I see the girl Glad, a small knife I remember Klay carrying still stuck in her right arm. She is grimacing but awake and alert, not like Klay. The difference is that Klay missed anything important, whereas whoever threw that knife knew exactly what they were doing. It's not fair that we don't have the skills for this. It's not fair that even when we do what the Glads do we still can't come out on top. It's not fair that Klay is dead and she is not.

My eyes find Micah and the boy Glad. Blood is dripping down into the grass below Micah's tree, but I can't see where he has been hit. The Glad boy is yelling at him, at first just unintelligible remarks tthat Micah seems not to have an answer to.

"Are you alone?" He shouts, looking around at the treetops where thousands of crows are perched silently. Micah is trembling, I can see that even from this far, and eventually his eyes make their way back to me. I crouch down further into the foliage, hoping that I am hidden enough from their view.

"I said are you alone?" The Glad boy says, much louder this time. My hands are shaking so hard that it is difficult to keep my grip. Every breath and every heartbeat feels like thunder exploding from my body. I wouldn't blame Micah for giving me away. I would want some distraction from myself even if it buys me only a couple of seconds to try my escape.

"It was just me and Klay," Micah whines, pointing a shaky finger towards Klay's body.

The Glad boy seems to consider it for a moment, as if maybe he doesn't quite believe him or might ask something more, but then his partner is at his side still clutching her arm. Her face is softer than I even thought was possible for a Gladiator. It makes me feel almost bad, like there might still be a person stuck in that killing machine of a body. I don't know what to make of it.

"Just kill him, Odin," she says, her voice a lot smoother than it was the last time I met her. She doesn't look excited about killing like she was at the launch, but she is definitely not going to let him go either.

I should help him. He gave me a clean route to get away from this and try again later, but I don't know that I can actually make myself abandon him. I scramble to gather my thoughts because I know he doesn't have a lot of time left. If I'm going to do something I have to do it now.

Micah looks back over to me again, this time his face is not frightened. He closes both eyes for a few seconds and then smiles softly. Even only having known the guy for a day I can tell what he is saying. He's forgiving me for leaving him behind. He's telling me that this is okay even though there is no possible way for me to think any of this is okay.

It's the boy Glad again that takes the final shot at Micah. His body doesn't fall out of the tree, not even when the cannon fires to let everyone know he really is dead. He just stops moving as if he fell asleep. Just like that boy yesterday, I can pretend he'll wake up in a few hours and give me that quirky grin again.

Tears run down my face and I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from sobbing out loud. Right now I am truly alone in here and I have killed the two people who were willing to follow me. After Ingo was taken away I thought that I felt the loneliness as deeply as one could, but now I know it hadn't even been close. I want to just get away from here and cry in peace. I don't think I can get myself to do anything else today.

I shimmy backwards towards the tree behind me, making it only a couple of feet before I hear them. The crows, those birds that I have seen everywhere in this place, and they're coming. One lands on the branch below me and opens its huge beak to call up at me, revealing many rows of jagged teeth. I gasp, crawling my way across the branch to get as far away as possible, but there are more. Many, many more.

They land on every available branch, some so close that I could reach out and touch them if I wanted to. I can hear more crows behind me back in the clearing and the Gladiators are screaming. I think I'm screaming too, but I'm not even sure. I turn my head around and around only to see more crows in every direction I look.

I drop out of the tree before I even realize what's happening. I hit a branch on the way down so hard that I can no longer feel my right foot. My breath is taken out of me when I hit the ground back first. For a second I think that I have broken every bone in my body the pain is so bad, but then feeling begins to return to most of my limbs. I pick myself up and start running, not even caring where I am going.

I can still hear the two Gladiators screaming, but I don't realize that their voices are getting louder the farther I run. Not until I see them, or parts of them, as swarms of black birds dive at each of their bodies. I can feel their wings brushing against me like sandpaper and their beaks puncturing my skin, but all I can think is that this has to end. Right now this has to end.

I run blindly towards one of the swarms of birds, not caring which it is. If I kill one of them I win and they have to take me out of this place and away from these things. I reach for my spear, finding it still in my hand where I left it. I raise it out in front of me and dive at the next place I see skin.

I make contact. Another scream follows and this time I am sure it's not mine. The birds continue to swarm around us and I continue to push my spear deeper and deeper into them. Strong hands slap at me but I don't stop. I will not stop until they are dead because then they have to take me away from this place.

The cannon is barely audible above the cawing of a thousand crows, but I know I hear it. I drop my spear and the person at its point, but the wings still slap my skin like nothing has happened.

"I won!" I yell towards where I think the sky should be. "I won so let me out!"

Immediately the birds ascend towards the sky, leaving two of us still standing in the clearing and one of us dead at its center.

* * *

 **Pyrrha Cortese, 18, Gladiator**

* * *

I don't know why the crows fly away, but they do even as my ears still ring with the sound of their calls. My heart is beating like a drum in my chest and my throat is dry from screaming. The birds attacked out of nowhere like nothing I have ever seen before. They have been all over the arena since the first day but muttations aren't supposed to interfere. We're always told that unless something is going wrong the muttations will not get in the way.

Everything was going perfectly, well except for the tribute that actually managed to stick me with a knife. A superficial enough wound, but aimed perfectly at the wrist I need to hold my bow in. I've always been best in long range weapons, and without use of my right hand I'm unable to use them. There is just one more left to catch and I can get my arm fixed. Just one more.

The sound that I heard only moments ago finally sticks into my mind. It wasn't the birds, it was a cannon. The third today, but who else has died. As soon as I turn around I see him lying on the grass facing away from me. He has a spear through the top of his chest that has exited out the back of his head. Odin is dead but by who?

Him.

I see the tribute boy again, the one that was with Eros' killer, and anger bubbles up in me once again. Tears sting at my eyes but I don't feel like crying. I feel like screaming, I feel like punching him square in the face and burying an arrow in his heart with my bare hands. I want him to feel the way I feel right now.

I walk towards him and he drops to the ground, his face pale as he stares at Odin's body. I want to yell at him that he has no right to look at him. I want to throw him across the clearing head first so that I won't have to look at Odin' body either.

I am standing right in front of him before tears spill over onto my cheeks. I am so angry, so heartbroken, and so confused at the same time. He shouldn't have been able to kill Odin, no one should have been able to kill any of us. That's not how the Hunger Games are supposed to be. Tributes aren't supposed to win. Yet there is this tribute boy standing in front of me and he doesn't even have the guts to look proud of what he's done.

He stares up at me, wiping tears from his cheek even as more slip down his face. "I-I'm so sorry. I just wanted it to stop."

I take one look at the boy in front of me. He isn't frightened even as I hold an arrow in my hand debating whether I will be allowed to kill him or not. He has taken away the only family I have left and he is apologizing? How dare he?

I want the anger to come back, but his words have ripped that emotion right out of my chest.

I look back at Odin, his lips still open in a scream that will last forever, and more tears slide down my face making me taste salt. I step towards him and brush the side of his cheek with my palm. He doesn't feel any different than he did this morning. His skin is still warm and his eyes are still that annoyingly bright hazel that I've always been jealous of. I need him to look different, to look dead so I can begin to wrap my mind around the fact that he's gone, but he doesn't.

"The 220th Hunger Games has now come to an end. Congratulations to our second and third Victors- Quentin Reiss of Sector A and Pyrrha Cortese of the Capitol!"

Cheers erupt around us, but as I look across the clearing at Quentin I know that neither of us have really won. His eyes flicker between the three bodies that clutter our clearing, birds beginning to settle on the two dead tributes. I kick away a crow that hops towards Odin, but I know that I will not be able to keep them away forever. All across the arena now the bodies will be collected by the crows and given back to the Capitol in pieces. Odin and Eros are no different than the dead tributes.

* * *

 _ **Klay Deraval, Sector E**_

 _ **Micah Theron, Sector B**_

 _ **Odin Jurado, Gladiator**_

 _ **Released- Quentin Reiss, Sector A; Pyrrha Cortese, Gladiator**_

* * *

 **A/N: That puts an end to our arena chapters. I hope that this finale was everything you expected it to be because it turned out pretty much exactly how I wanted it to. Instead of the action-packed, thrilling fight to the death I wanted to introduce some humanity and kinship between the last few tributes and Gladiators. I thought it would be a fitting end to this story.**

 **Congratulations to Quentin Reiss and his submitter Jalen Kun. Quentin was one tribute that I always came back to when I was choosing my Victors because he has gone through a very drastic change in this story. From the cocky, headstrong tribute to the sweet, empathetic Victor Quentin was one of the ones to deserve this victory most.**

 **There will be one more chapter after this one where we will hear from each of the Victors (Ingo, Quentin, and Pyrrha) after the arena. It will also be when I post the obituaries on the blog for all of the fallen tributes. I expect that chapter to take about a week just because there is quite a lot of things that will go into it.**

 **Thanks to everyone that has stuck by this story. The end is almost here and I couldn't be happier that I will actually finally finish this story. It's been over a year but it's actually ending and I'm kind of upset about it.**


	24. We Are The Dead

" _We are the dead. Our only true life is in the future. We shall take part in it as handfuls of dust and splinters of bone. But how far away that future may be, there is no knowing."_ _  
_ _―_ _George Orwell_ _,_ _1984_

* * *

 **Epilogue**

* * *

 **Quentin Reiss, 18, Victor of the 220** **th** **Hunger Games**

* * *

I couldn't have imagined the silence that would meet me outside of the arena.

After they lifted the female Glad and me out of the arena, leaving behind Micah, Klay, and the boy Glad, we were both taken down separate hallways and this room is what was at the end of mine. It's been two days and I still haven't left. Everyone that I have seen has visited me in here, but between the nurses and Peacekeepers dipping their heads in every once in a while I am the only one here and it is _silent._

I didn't realize how many sounds my ears had filtered out during my days and nights in the arena. There was wind blowing and bird whistles and tree branches rustling, but here there is nothing. For the first coupld hours there was a tube attached to my arm and the thing at the end of it would beep every once in a while, followed by a nurse running in to check on me, but since then there has been nothing. No one speaks more than a couple of words to me and it's making my head explode. I didn't realize how much I need people talking until all the voices were taken away.

I had Ingo's sarcastic chattering for such a long time, but even after he got out I still had something. I had Pryor every once in a while, and met Micah and Klay so soon afterward that I hardly felt the loneliness. Now sitting in this room alone for two days I don't think I can feel anything but.

I look up just in time to see one of the nurses dip her head into my room. "You have a visitor."

Immediately I hope that it is Ingo even though I almost just as quickly realize it couldn't be. I've been asking to see him the first chance I had to speak to someone, but they've all said the same thing that he is in critical condition and has been put into a deep sleep. I don't understand what that really means but I know it isn't good by the way their lips tightened when they told me. Ingo was bad when he left the arena but I'd thought he'd be better by now. The doctors in the Capitol are supposed to be able to practically bring people back from the dead.

"Hello, Tribute Quentin- or should I say, Victor Quentin!"

It's definitely not Ingo who walks into my room. This man has deep red hair and a twisted moustache that looks more groomed than my hair most days. His light yellow jacket is so different from the full white tunics I've gotten used to seeing that I am instantly interested in who he could be.

"Hello," I say softly as he approaches my bed. His steps are long and sure, and he is leaning over my bedside only a few seconds after I greet him. For some reason his wide grin makes me shift in my bed. I don't like how it looks almost too big for his face.

"Oh that's right," he laughs. "We've never met in person. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Pryor Balt."

Pryor? The name makes me realize why his voice sounds so familiar. This is the man that was speaking to me from inside my head. I never really considered that he must exist outside of my mind, but of course he does. And he's here... to meet me?

"I'm a huge fan," he says, nudging my shoulder a bit too harshly. "We made quite the team in there. The fans loved you, especially after that stunt with letting that other kid out. Very heroic and a little stupid, they ate it right up."

"The... the fans?" I ask. I don't understand what he's talking about even a bit. He's talking about Ingo, I think, but who loved that? There was no one else there except me, and I guess Pryor.

"Oh yes," he nods. "They loved every minute of you."

It takes me a minute to really grasp what he is saying, but when I do there is no hiding it. "Wait. T-there were people watching me?"

"Of course. The Hunger Games is aired all over Panem, though it's especially big in the Capitol. Everyone in this nation knows who you are now, you're famous!"

I am so stunned that no words will come out of my mouth. There were people _watching_ me. When the Glads were killing Leighton and almost killing Ingo there were people watching all over Panem and they did nothing. They even... _enjoyed_ it? They watched me choose to leave my friend behind and blame myself for her death when they could have done something. They let all except three of us die. They watched it like some people watch the announcement screens back in Zero. They watched us and they didn't even care?

Pryor is staring at me with his brows furrowed when I am finally able to see through the red in my vision. "Didn't they come in and brief you yet?"

I shake my head. I am so close to crying or screaming or punching him in his too-thick lips that I don't trust myself to even try to speak. I hadn't even thought of the possibility of Pryor being able to do anything to get us out of that place, but the thoughts swarm my mind now and I can think of nothing else. How many of them were there working to produce this... this _show?_

How many people have they killed before we got here? How many got out?

"Forget I said anything then," he says with a wave of his hand as if that will wipe the thoughts right out of my head. "I'm here to see how you're doing and let you know that your friend is awake now."

Ingo. "Is he okay? Can I see him?"

"In due time, Reiss," he chuckles. "Right now I'm here to talk about you. Now tell me, are you having any new feelings after getting out of the arena? Perhaps any thoughts have surfaced in these few days?"

* * *

 **Pyrrha Cortese, 18, Victor of the 220** **th** **Hunger Games**

* * *

As I walk through the concrete hallways, part of me wonders where I am.

I know that I must be at the Academy, because that is where I was told I would be this morning. My heart leaps as I pass the huge windows that show the training gym so I know that some innate part of me knows where I am. This is the place where I grew up, where I lived though all the memories that occupy my mind up to the arena. This is my home, but it feels like I have never been here before.

Seneca Ayres walks in front of me and to my right. Neither of us have spoken a word since our initial greeting and I don't think that is up to change anytime soon. Head Trainer Ayres was one of my idols growing up and even now I look up to him, though I now outrank him greatly. In all sense of the word I am his superior even though I am many years younger. He may be a trainer, but I am a Gladiator who returned. I have served Panem in the most honourable way one can. I have punished the criminals turned tributes that plague our nation and diminish our greatness.

I feel like much less of a hero than I did when I left the Academy eleven days ago. In fact, I feel like much less of a person.

We step into his office, which will later lead me to the front atrium of the Academy. I am set to be reintroduced to the students, to show them what they could become if they work hard. I am here to motivate and inspire them, but I have not yet been cleared to speak. Normally the returning Gladiators give a speech on the second day of their return, but the public affairs director has said I am not ready.

It is such an embarrassment to be deemed unprepared. Eleven days ago I would never have even thought there could be a point in my life that I would not be one hundred percent ready for. Now the pill is much easier to swallow, though it still catches in my throat. This will not be the first time I was unprepared for a major event in my life.

"I had a speech printed for you, Pyrrha," Head Trainer Ayres says as he closes the door behind us. The Peacekeepers standing by both doors in his office do not move, in fact I question whether they are real at all. I understand why they are here. This is the closest I will get to privacy for a long, long time.

"I have not been cleared," I say simply, though I suspect that he already knows this. He nods his head and turns away. I know that it must have been hard for him to see me return without Eros, the two of them were very close, but I need him to give me his approval right now. I don't have my own but I need someone's.

"It is disappointing," he says slowly. "I know that the students will wonder why you won't address them yourself."

I hang my head, unwilling to meet his eyes. he is right. Whether they know protocol or not, whether they understand I am not well enough to speak or they don't, they will want to hear the words from me and not from Head Trainer Ayres.

"No matter," he sighs after a moment. "They will be glad to see you. I understand you haven't yet been spoken to about your options?"

I shake my head. "I did not know I had something more to choose."

"You do, Miss Cortese. You have done your duty to Panem, but it does not have to end here. Your skill in the arena will not go unnoticed, I'm sure. In the next few days there will be people wanting to speak with you, people in very high places. Some in even higher places than my own."

"Why would they wish to speak to me?"

He looks at me for a moment and then lets out a heavy sigh, leaning his torso over his desk. "Panem will fawn over your for a year, Miss Cortese, perhaps even two or three. Then you will be forgotten and, though you will be bathed in riches beyond anything you could ever dream, you will not want to be idle. There are places for you to go after the Game Master has finished with you. There are things you can accomplish even past what you already have."

"Do I have the choice to be idle?"

"If you want to be, yes," he nods. "You will no longer be one of my students and so you will have choice. But I know you better than you think I do, Pyrrha. I know that you will want to do more. The three of you were some of my best because you wanted more than the other students. I hope that your experiences have not stripped you of that quality."

I shake my head. I have never thought this far. I have never imagined what I would want my life to look like after I won the Hunger Games. Victors are showered in gifts, give speeches, and travel across Panem, but Head Trainer Ayres is right- eventually they disappear. I do not know what I want to disappear to just yet. I'm not sure I will want for myself a week or even a month or a year from now, but right now I wish to be idle. Even if it displeases him.

I will attend all of the functions that I have been scheduled for over the next week. I will attend the joint funeral of Eros and Odin, my two best friends, in just a few days. I will meet the Game Master five days from now. I will do all of this because it is my duty to do so, but after that I no longer have to be the Gladiator, the fighter, and the murder I had always wanted to be.

* * *

 **Ingo Arvallian, 18, Victor of the 220** **th** **Hunger Games**

* * *

I've only been awake for a few hours before one of the nurses tells me that Quentin wants to see me.

They brought him in in a chair that has wheels on the bottom and sat him down beside my bed. I was told that I won't be allowed to get up and walk around for at least a few days and this is one thing I'm not going to argue. I feel a whole lot better than I did back in the arena but everything still hurts. I would be happy to lie in bed forever at this point.

"Ingo," Quentin whispers. "You're okay, I can't fucking believe it. You're okay."

"I'm okay," I agree, but my voice sounds weaker than I have ever heard it. The nurses told me I had been through a lot and I feel like I have been. I only have general memories of getting out of the arena, in fact I couldn't tell you much about that at all. I remember killing one of the Glad boys and then I woke up here. As far as I know nothing else happened.

"Have they said anything to you?"

I shrug. "They said that I would be in a lot of pain for the next while because of what my body has been through, but that I'd live. Then they said you were coming to see me. That's all."

"No, I mean..." He says, dropping his voice and leaning in closer to me. "Has anyone told you about what the Hunger Games are?"

I don't understand what he means and I'm sure my face can tell him that much. They told all of us about the rules when we got here. We talked about it in training and the night before we left for the arena, not to mention during the actual time inside. As far as I'm concerned I know way too much about the fucking Hunger Games.

"I met him today," Quentin breathes. "The man that was inside my head."

"Pryor?" I ask and he nods. Immediately I reach a hand out and clasp his forearm. Quentin never talked much about the man who spoke to him, but none of what he did tell me was good. The man pointed out every bad move Quentin made, including being with Leighton and I, but I also know there was more. The clenched expression he carried when Pryor spoke to him was enough for me to hate the man.

"He told me-" He begins and then stops for a moment. "I don't know how to explain this so I'll just say it. There were people watching us, Ingo."

The room seems to freeze around me, the only movement coming from my own lips as I watch myself speak. "What?"

"Panem... The other districts, the Capitol. All of them were watching us this whole time."

"They couldn't have been," I try even though I don't believe myself. "How?"

"I don't know, he wouldn't tell me much about it but there were people watching definitely."

"Why didn't they help us?" I choke out after a moment. Without having been called there are tears pooling in my eyes. I don't understand what he's saying. There were people watching us, watching all of those kids die, and no one did anything? That's so wrong I don't even know where to start.

Quentin blinks a few times. "I don't know."

Something suddenly occurs to me. "Could they still be watching us?"

"They said the Hunger Games are over," he whispers. "That's what they said when I woke up. They said it's over now."

I shake my head, tears slipping down my cheeks but a new wave of anger tensing my body at the same time. "It's not over. It can't be over, Quent."

"It is over," he repeats. "It's over and we're safe. That's what they said, Ingo. It's over and we're safe."

"They watched us," I say, my voice creaking with every sound. "They watched them die and they didn't do a damn thing. They think it's over. They have their winners and the Hunger Games is supposed to be over now, but it's not. In my dreams all this time I'm still there. Right now I'm still tensing at every sound this place makes because I'm still fucking there. They don't get to say that it's over either. I'm not letting them."

"I don't understand."

"They're going to pay for this, Quentin." My words have more strength than any part of me right now and I can feel that power dripping through my body. "They don't get to do this to us. They don't get to do this to Leighton or to Cadria or to any of them. If we don't show them they're wrong it will happen again and again."

"It's already happened again and again, don't you see?" Quentin says softly. "This wasn't the first and it won't be the last. This one was the 220th, Ingo. They're not going to stop because we say they should. This won't be the last Hunger Games."

"But there will be a last Hunger Games," I say, surprising even myself with the certainty in my voice. "We can't just do nothing, Quentin."

"Stop calling me that," he says with a grimace.

"Quentin?" I ask. "That's your name."

"That's what Pryor calls me- _Tribute Quentin_ ," he says. "Every time someone says it I mentally put the word tribute in there with it. I hate my name. I don't want it anymore."

It only takes a minute for me to understand. That's exactly what Cambria called me- _Tribute Ingo_. I hated it so much that they put it before my name. It was like they were saying I was more a tribute than I was myself. If i never heard someone call me by that name again I think I could live a pretty happy life.

"Apex," I say firmly as if I had been thinking about the word for more than just a few seconds. "That's what you can be. I heard someone use it before to describe their crew leader. They said he was an 'Apex predator' because he was on the top. I think it fits, that's where you were in the arena. On top of everything that happened."

A slight smile spreads across his face as he rolls the word around in his mind. "It's perfect. You need one too. I'm not good with words. I heard a Peacekeeper say some man was 'in discord' because he kept lashing back at them. I don't know what it means but he'd probably say you were 'in discord' too. That should be your name."

"I love it," I say, immediately breaking out in a grin to match his. I know the word from school and Quentin's right about what it means. When someone is in discord with someone else they are disagreeing. I'm in discord with the Hunger Games and I'm ready to fight them. It's the perfect name for me.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello lovely people. I have finally finished this chapter and brought an end to this story that has been in the making for over a year. I hope that anyone who stuck through it all was not disappointed in how it all went down, because I am actually pretty happy with it as a whole. I will now be shifting my attention to my next story, the sequel to this that is currently in its early stages.**

 **I want to thank everyone that read, reviewed, submitted, PM'd me about the story, or anything else. There is no story without all of you and I am super grateful for those that stuck around to see it through with me.**

 **For those of you that have read the prologue to** _ **Skipping Stones,**_ **I will just say yes to the question that you'll all be thinking. Ingo and Quentin do become the leaders of The Blood Children- Apex and Discord. They will continue on in this universe for a while, so anyone that wants more of them can check out that prologue.**

 **I have posted updates/obituaries for all of the Victors/falled tributes on the blog under the title 'Where You Are'. This has a different format than most that I have written since the friends and family of the tributes would not exactly know that they are dead. I hope that they give some closure to those of you that lost tributes because I cried a little bit writing some of them.**

 **There really is not much more to say. It has been a fun time creating this universe and I am excited to continue with it for a while longer. Thank you again to everyone that made this happen, and with that I will officially end the story. This is goodbye to** _ **All Eyes!**_


End file.
